The Fangel Experiment
by TheCatWithTheHat
Summary: Okay, this is just The Angel Experiment from Mr. Rock's point of view. We're inside Fang's head now, watching him watch the Flock...and now, we learn just what the Fangalator is all about. Flames are accepted...if you read you MUST review! Please? Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, yes, this is Story #3, but trust me, it's worth it. This Maxfiction is goin' where no Maxfiction has gone before. And yes, someone **_**should **_**have thought of it, but sadly for them, no one did. HA.**

**Okay, so this is basically The Angel Experiment from Fang's POV. And if you don't know what The Angel Experiment is, then I suggest you go busy your time – say, not reading Maximum Ride fanfictions.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAX OR FANG OR ANYONE IN THIS STORY. I DO NOT GET WHY I HAVE TO SAY THIS EVERY TIME. I DO NOT OWN THE DIALOGUE EITHER. THIS IS ALL STRAIGHT OUT OF THE BOOK. IT IS ALSO KNOWN AS PLAGIARISM BUT WE ARE ALL PLAGIARISING JAMES PATTERSON SO I DON'T KNOW WHY IT MATTERS. AND I DON'T OWN IT.**

**Alright. Heeeere we go!**

Hey.

I'm going to just get it out into the open now. Anyone who's expecting something like the work of art Max has made, get yourself over to the bookstore and buy it. If you want _my _crap, well, then, I warned you, didn't I?

This is basically how it all went down. Exactly. And instead of being inside Max's big head, now you can hear it from me: the spectator. Well, you know, I'm mainly in the thick of things, when it comes to fights. You can count on me when it comes to protecting my family. But when it comes to conversing with said family, well…you can count me out. I just really don't see the point.

Fact is, I'm a bit afraid of really letting it loose. Who knows what might come out. That's why I keep my inner turmoil inner and my outer turmoil nonexistent.

Okay. Now, to the story.

I understand that Max has hers open with some dream that she had. Well, mine's just gonna start with what happens _after_ I wake up from said dream: I find myself lying in my cozy sheets, trying to remember exactly what woke me up. I'm having a hard time; my brain is, well, still a bit…fuzzy. Then I remember.

Another loud noise from downstairs has me shimmying into my dark clothing. Remind me to tell you later why I like dark clothing. I raced downstairs to find it peaceful and still, just how morning should be.

"Fine," Max is saying from the kitchen. "Miss breakfast."

I wonder who she's talking to for about five half-seconds. Hmm…I don't know how many whole seconds that is, given that I've never taken a math class in my entire life. Then I forget about fractions and walk into the kitchen.

Max freezes as I walk into the kitchen. Suddenly she whirls around, her tangled hair whooshing upward and then settling back down on her shoulders. My stomach twists, but I ignore it as usual, keeping my face blank and my eyes looking everywhere but her.

"Will you _quit_ that?" she asks.

I look at her now, regarding her, pretending to consider her request. I have to look down on her because I passed her four inches ago. "Quit what? Breathing?"

I would if she told me to.

She rolls her eyes. "You know what," she insists.

Iggy rolls off the couch, and for the first time I register that he and Gazzy are sharing this lovely kitchen with us. "I'll make eggs," he says, and staggers over to the stove, still a bit brain-dead from his long night sleeping.

Okay, that just sounded dumb.

Max looks away from me, and I hide my automatic negative reaction under grabbing a juicy red apple and crunching into it. She surveys the kitchen.

"Fang? You set the table," she orders me. I go to get plates. "I'll get Nudge and Angel," she says, and darts up the stairs.

"Let 'em sleep," Ig mumbles. "I'm not in the mood for hyperactive kids right now."

"Too bad." Gazzy hops up onto a barstool at the counter; his swinging feet make regular _thud, thud, thud _noises on the legs of the chair.

"You're a hyperactive kid," Iggy points out. "So maybe I'm not it the mood for you." He cracks an egg on the skillet and lets it sizzle for a moment before adding two more.

"You're _always _in the mood for me," Gazzy laughs. I set down the plates, pick up my apple and take another bite. This time I go to get forks, knives, and spoons – normally described as _silverware_ – with it hanging out of my mouth.

Gazzy lunges for the apple, ready to swipe it out of my mouth, but instead her knocks over a little glass of juice that he poured so carefully earlier. He pouts, sticking out his pink lower lip, before scrambling over the counter and ripping a few paper towels off the rack.

"I'll pretend I didn't see that," I say, pulling the apple out of my mouth so I can swallow.

"I just didn't see that," Iggy cackles. "No pretending involved."

I roll my eyes at him, something that he can't see because he's blind. Pulling the juice back out of the fridge, I hand it to Gazzy. He tilts it, using both hands to support it, and fills the glass back up.

Nudge trails into the kitchen, her hair piled on top of her head in a big mess that she somehow manages to make fashionable. Her shirt hangs off her smooth, brown shoulder, and her ratty pants trail on the ground.

"Is breakfast ready yet?" she yawns, and Iggy sets a steaming plate of eggs in front of her. She looks around bemusedly for a moment, then spies a fork and grabs it.

"Where's Max?" I blurt before I can stop myself, but no one takes any notice. Nudge shrugs and yawns again. "Doing Angel's buttons, I think," she says, taking another bite of yellow gush.

Just then, Angel comes clattering down the stairs, fully dressed, her little doll shoes making a racket on the hard wood. She's pulling Max along by the hand, and Max looks somewhat frazzled. I laugh in my mind, shaking my long bangs away from my face.

"Hi!" Angel says, bounding into the kitchen. She swipes a glass of juice and drains it in one gulp, setting it back on the table. Gazzy fills it back up again, enjoying being the under-appreciated bartender. He carefully makes sure it reaches the line, then sets it down on the table. Unfortunately for him, no one reaches out to grab it so that he can fill it again. He looks disappointed.

I sit and Iggy gives me a plate. Picking up a fork in my left hand, I shovel about half of the eggs in front of me into my mouth.

"Fang, that's gross." Max whaps the back of my head before settling into the chair next to me. My entire left side tingles, and my head throbs. That girl can pack a punch.

"I want to go pick strawberries today," Angel says, scooping more eggs into her mouth. "They're ripe now."

"Okay, Angel, I'll go with you," the Gasman says, then giggles. Too late, I realize why. There's no napkins or anything near me, so I just hold my breath and hope that the count of two hundred, my record for holding my breath so far, will be enough time to clear the air.

I start counting.

"Oh, jeez, Gazzy," Max says disapprovingly.

_Nine, ten, eleven…_

"Gas…mask!" Iggy chokes out, grabbing his neck. He bends double, pretending he's being strangled.

"I'm done," I say quickly, not wanting to release any more air than necessary. I'm at thirty and already beginning to feel a little short of oxygen. Hmm, not good. I stand fast, knocking my chair to the ground in my haste, and carry my plates to the sink.

"Yeah, Angel," Nudge says, her voice sounding all Klaxon-y from holding her nose, "I think the _fresh air _will do us all good. I'll go too."

Fifty seconds and counting. The pressure is building, but it looks like the Flock is beginning to recover a bit. Maybe…nah, it's not worth the risk.

"We'll all go," Max decides, and our day is planned.

I have a bit less than a minute under my belt. I wonder if I can really hold it in for two more of these. I decide not to risk it and bolt up the stairs to safety, letting my air out as I go.

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at myself without really seeing anything. I run a quick comb through my hair and leap back down the stairs.

The Flock is assembled at the door, waiting for me. I slip on my shoes and stand at attention.

"Ready to go?" Max asks, and pulls open the door.

**Sorry, I know it's not a good stopping spot, but the fam is barking at me to get off. Hope you like it! Oh, and like the summary says: if you read, you MUST review. It's in the Constitution under Good Payment for your Hardworking Author who Suffers So Much to Bring This to You.**

**Love, Schne**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello.**

**I just wanted to say, WOW. I haven't checked my e-mail since last night, so I thought I'd pull up the reviews for Fangel Experiment from Fanfiction. And holy Lordy, I have nine reviews in one night. Count 'em, folks. That's nine reviews in twenty-four hours. Thanks for taking me seriously on the R&R rule; if we keep going like this we'll make 100 in record time. I'm counting on you, folks.**

**Okay. Now, to the story.**

The morning is, well…beautiful. Which just goes to show that nothing, I repeat, _nothing_, is as pretty on the inside as it is on the outside.

Everyone is holding a basket over each elbow, including me. All we need now is a mulberry bush to skip around. I guess we'll have to make do with strawberries, and Angel, sensing my thoughts, leads us straight over to the patch without dawdling, still clutching Max's hand.

"If you make cake, I'll make strawberries," Angel says, her sweet, clear voice carrying to the back of the group where I am walking, stony-faced. She even does a little skip as she says it, her cute white socks staining green.

"Yeah, that'll be the day, when Max makes a cake! I'll make it, Angel," Gazzy says in Iggy's voice. He does this constantly. It is extremely annoying – almost as bad as a killer fart. But…not quite.

Max whirls around, her face on the offense, glaring at Iggy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims. "Okay, I'm not a fabulous cook. But I can still kick your butt, and don't you forget it!"

She's right. But we're too busy trying to hold back laughter to agree. Iggy puts up his hands in denial, and Nudge looks like she's getting a stomachache from trying to hold it in. But Gazzy gives himself away: mischievousness is written all over his face.

"Was that _you_?" Max asks Gazzy indignantly. He grins and shrugs, trying not to look too pleased with himself. I pull in my smile and do a quick recon. Wait – what's that, in the sky, there…?

Angel freezes and screams suddenly, dropping her wicker basket. I flip into a fighting stance, shaking hair out of my eyes. Sometimes I almost wish I had some of Angel's barrettes.

Then the black thing zooms into view: it's a helicopter. In the next second, huge, wolfy men (otherwise known as Erasers) drop out of the sky like hail.

Darn, and we haven't even picked any strawberries yet.

I launch myself at a hulky Eraser, bringing my foot up and around to hit his cheek. It's a man down, for sure, but he just staggers and comes right back at me with his fists flailing. I use the momentum from my roundhouse kick to spin me around and land another blow on his cheek, this time with my fist.

His legs fail him and he falls to his knees. I'm about to finish him off when another Eraser grabs me from the back, locking his elbows together to keep me secure. The Eraser that I just beat up stands slowly, savoring the moment.

I'm not about to let him. With a roar, I snap out my wings, blowing the Eraser behind me back. I leap into the air and hover above their heads, flying in tight circles just above the Erasers so that they have to almost trip over their own feet to track me, snapping out with a dark foot whenever one gets dizzy. Soon I have the two Erasers moaning on the ground.

But I've overlooked one thing: the Eraser's jumping ability. I realize this as a 400-pound flying-human-killer jumps onto my back, effectively pulling me straight to the ground. I can hear Nudge and Angel screaming and crying but I really can't help them right now. The Erasers are literally about to slash my throat open, and anything I do that involves untucking my chin from my chest will certainly get me killed. Three claws scrape my cheek, and I grunt as a white-hot starburst of pain explodes on my left side.

Then, suddenly, the erasers leap off of me, leaving me groaning for about five half-seconds. (I'm not even going to think about it.) They make a break for the copter and hoist themselves into it. Too late I realize that they've got a squirming sack thrown over their shoulders: _ANGEL._

I can't take the risk of going after her. Max is lying in a heap on the ground and I am already starting to go into hysterics – invisibly, of course. But if I wait too long, Angel might be out of sight. And my nose is broken, making it hard to think straight as blood rushes from it. I numbly readjust it, staring after the copter.

I make my decision and rush to Max. The remaining members of the Flock are already gathered around. I realize that my nose is dripping on Max and pull back a bit.

She blinks and stirs. Iggy and I lean anxiously over her.

"Max?" the Gasman whispers, his voice shaking.

Max moans, a sound so full of pain and fear that my heart explodes. I don't let it show, keeping my face calm.

"I'm okay," she says finally, sounding anything but. She tries to sit up, fails, and falls back into the grass. "Where's Angel?" she asks, her voice sounding ragged and strained. Her eyes meet mine.

I can't betray those eyes. But my mouth disobeys me.

"She's gone," I hear myself say. "They took her." Ooh, going for the subtle approach. I mentally smack my forehead and mentally wince as my mental hand hits my mental broken nose.

I think I'm going mental.

Max gets to her feet shakily. I want to push her back down but I don't. She leans against me, and I can see her fighting her weakness. She is obviously repulsed at having to need help, but I don't take it personally.

"We've got to get her," she says urgently, fighting to stay upright. I catch her elbow before she can fall back to the ground. "We've got to get her before they-"

She gulps and cuts herself off. Then, it's like someone pushes her "in-control" button – suddenly she's all business again.

"Check in, guys – are you ready for a chase?" she asks in a much stronger voice. I silently congratulate her on pulling herself together so quickly.

Nudge sounds like she's about to throw up, but she says, "Yes," and another tear trickles out of her eye.

"I'm up," says Iggy through a split lip.

Gazzy nods at her, putting his brave face on. But the second Max looks away his tiny face crumples again. I'd pull his to my side, but I don't pull people to my side.

Max wipes her eyes furtively. She narrows her brow, looking mad. Then Iggy cocks his head, and I hold my breath for the second time today. Everyone freezes and listens too. I can hear the drone of the helicopter suddenly: faint but definite.

"_There_!" Iggy cries, flinging his arm to the right.

The five of us run toward the sound, moving like grandmas in a three-legged race. After about a hundred yards, we come to a sharp drop-off. Nudge, who's in the front, skids to a stop and wheels her arms to keep her balance.

Down below us is a black Humvee, it's paint covered with "nature's mark", bumping along the quiet road. Max holds back a gasp: she obviously thinks Angel is in there.

Well, whatever.

"Let's go get her!" Max calls, then hurls herself off the cliff. After a few heart-stopping seconds, she rises into view: her beautiful wings sweeping the grit off the ledge with every downstroke. I jumpedinto the air after her, pausing to rip a dead branch from a pine tree.

Angel, here we come.

**Please, please review and tell me if Fang seems OOC…thanks….**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi! I'm feeling a little hyper today. Let's just say that about 100 bajillion Gobstoppers + an extremely scary thriller at 11:00 last night X only 7 hours of sleep= one very stranged out Maia. Sorry.**

One by one, the Flock drops off the cliff and veers in formation toward the Humvee, swooping up and down with the wind. I'm right behind Max's right shoulder, far enough back that my wings don't hit her black boots. I heft my dead branch into a more comfortable position on my shoulder and speed up, veering past Max and toward the car. I hold the branch like a spear, landing in a crouch on top of the car with one hand down and the branch held above me like a sword. I experience a brief moment of Ninja Fang – but then it subsides.

I chaste myself for thinking about ninjas and drive the branch into the windshield of the car. To my extreme surprise, the sharp point pierces the glass and the branch goes crashing into the car. I leap away from it, extending my wings and letting them fill with air. Just in time. Glass shatters and the air is suddenly filled with the stuff – as well as bullets.

A gun is poked out of the right backseat window and there's a loud WHOOSH as a tree catches fire. I catch a glimpse of Max as she swerves back into the woods with Nudge. I grab the stick and jam it through the window one last time before they extend six more guns and three of them train on me. I blow myself backwards, avoiding the tiny black objects swarming the sky like flies.

"Angel!" Max screams from behind me. "We're here! We're coming for you!"

I spot a clearing about 200 yards away from us. It's our only chance. We need to intercept Angel before she gets to the copter, and we can't do that if there are trees between us and the sky.

"Up ahead," I call, and hope that everyone can hear. I find the outline of the copter through the trees, shading my face, because at this angle, the sun is right in my ultra-sensitive mutant eyes. I can hear the truck bouncing along the rutted road, and then Nudge shrieking in pain. _She's hit_, I think frantically, but then I realize that it just grazed her cheek, still slicing it to the bone.

I meet Max's eyes and nod. Her brows are set, I think, without her even realizing it. She nods back, then her gaze drops to the Humvee. I follow her line of vision to see the Humvee skidding in the mud below us, the wheels twisting madly to try to get a grip on the smooth surface. The doors slam open and an Eraser jumps out. I drop on his head, startling him. The Humvee slides past us.

Suddenly the Eraser turns a gun on me and attempts to blow me to bits. I jump out of the way and the bullet lodges itself in my forearm. Blood gushes out.

I yell and spring away from the Eraser. He grins with triumph and jumps up to me, his claws raking my bleeding arm.

Agony. The bullet is enough, but the Eraser felt that he needed to just finish me off. Another Eraser throws something out of the car: a grenade. Only, my senses aren't reacting fast enough, and I slide through the air, feeling as though I am on dry ice. I slam into a tree and pass out before I can hit the bottom. The only thing I register is that the impact has cracked the tree in two, and with and agonized groan that echoes the one in my entire being, crashes to the forest floor.

**!**

The pain in my arm wakes me about twenty minutes later. I'm crumpled in a Fang-sized heap on the forest floor, and I feel like the bone in my arm has been shattered. I stand slowly.

Suddenly my brain wakes up, and the pain in my arm doubles tenfold. I let loose with a roar that would have scared a T-Rex. Birds scream and catapult themselves into the air, flying away in one massive cloud. I stare, shaking, at my arm, digging my nails into the tender skin on accident. I hold in the shriek and gulp. This is V. bad.

"Fang?"

I can't make my feet move at first. It's all I can do to keep from passing out again. I cradle my arm and turn, shaking, to the person who called my name.

It's Gazzy. His face is streaked with tears, making clear tracks in the blood and dirt, letting his freckles show through.

"Fang?" he asks again, his voice breaking.

"It's me," I grind out. My voice cracks too, something that hasn't happened to me in over a year. "Are you okay?"

"How do you mean?" Gazzy chokes out. The he rushes to me and throws his arms around me. Pain blocks my vision for a moment, and I sway on the spot, squeezing every muscle in my body to keep it in.

Gazzy feels me clench my fists. He slowly backs away from me, hurt passing over his face. Then he sees my arm and lets loose with a word that would have him over Max's knee.

"Fang! You're hurt! Oh, God, Fang, why didn't you say so?"

"It doesn't hurt that much," I hiss through my teeth, which are also clenched. Blood drips onto the ground.

Gazzy puts his arm around me. "Come on," he says encouragingly, "let's get you back to the house." His entire demeanor has changed in the past ten seconds. I resist the urge to shrug him off.

"Wait," I say, and squat down so I'm on his level, keeping my entire black-clad weight on my toes. He stares me right in the eye. The corners of his mouth turn down, and his lower lip trembles.

_Careful, Fang_, I think, _you're stepping into the danger zone._ I do _not_ do crying kids.

"Are you okay?" I ask again. His eyes fill with tears but don't spill over, and the baby blue color shimmers with the extra liquid.

"N-no," he whispers. I take both of his hands in my good one, the left one, settling them against my knee.

"We'll get her back," I promise rashly. "I promise."

Gazzy nods and his arms go around my neck. I put my arm around his skinny body, feeling him shake against me. His head goes down, and he cries into my shoulder for a good five minutes. I rub his back and resist the urge to ask him to move his head because his hair is tickling my ear.

Finally his shoulders stop shaking. He pushes off of me and wipes his face with the heel of his hand. My hand rests lamely on his shoulder, but my other arm is screaming for my attention. _Too bad_, I think at it, but it doesn't get the message.

He sniffs.

"Let's go," he whispers. I stand and he slips his hand into mine. We slowly make out way through the woods back to the house. Each step, I feel like someone's shooting at me again: my arm pulses with the tiniest jostle. It hurts so much that the top of my eyeballs feel sore. Don't ask.

Finally we emerge from the woods. Gazzy's hand curls tighter around mine. He looks up at me, his expression small and timid.

"Thank you, Fang," he murmurs, and I feel a swoop of desire to protect this little boy. He seems so innocent now, and I feel as though I actually _want_ him to let one loose to remind myself of what he's capable of. This vulnerability in him is too much for me to bear, like someone stripped away his shell and left him cold and defenseless.

I nod at him, and we enter the house.

Inside, Iggy is throwing things around the room. I'm glad to see that the rest of the Flock is here, and I slither over to the first-aid box to see if there's anything I can use for my arm. I take six pain pills and then dig through the box for some sort of bandage.

Nudge is curled up on the couch, not crying, not moving, not blinking. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, and her expression is one of extreme pain. It's too much for me to bear, like I honestly can't look at a person with that much emotion.

Just as I turn to Iggy, he swipes Angel's breakfast plates through the air, the mug coming straight for me. It hits me in the side of the head.

"Watch it, idiot!" I nearly scream at him, my nerves stretched to the breaking point. I realize what I said, that we need to bond together and take this as a team, and feel guilty. I clench my teeth and look at Max, rolling my eyes at her.

She'd been slumped on the kitchen table, but now she gets up and moves robotically over to me, pushing past me and grabbing the first-aid box. It spills on the floor (which she conveniently DOESN'T mention in her story) and she stoops to pick it up, sighing and brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. I swallow, but make no move to help her. Instead, I pick up a kitchen rag, wet it, and begin pressing the blood out of my wound. It hurts like hell.

Max begins cleaning Gazzy's cuts like a mom. I stop looking at people and focus on my rag. Max does not come rushing over to help me; I don't even think she notices that my arm is whacked up. I wonder if she even noticed that I was gone.

"_You _watch it!" Iggy yells at me, startling me back into the present. I glance at his sharply, finishing with the rag. I walk to Max and pick up some gauze. "What _happened?_ I mean, you guys can _see,_ can't you? Why couldn't you get Angel?"

"They had a chopper!" Gazzy yells, squirming away from Max. "And guns! We're not _bulletproof!"_

"Guys! Guys!" Max shouts. "We're all upset. But _we're _not the enemy! _They're _the enemy."

She grabs Gazzy again and pushes one more Band-Aid onto his cheekbone before he slips out of her grasp. I place the end of the gauze on my arm and begin winding, wanting to put a layer between my wound and a brace.

"Just – be quiet for a moment so I can think," Max adds calmly. I disappear from the room and return holding the remote to the TV, wrapping it into the bandage. Iggy sits down on the couch and comforts Nudge, and I see a wet stain spreading on his shoulder where her head is resting from her tears.

"Take deep breaths," Gazzy advises Max as I finish the bandage. I now feel as though I could use my arm as a club, if I desired - the wrapping is so thick. It still hurts, but not as much anymore now that I have the remote in there. I am silent, walking over to the fridge and opening a can of cold ravioli. I'm ravenous. Max's eyes finally settle on me, taking in my arm. She turns away and I pick up a fork off the table and dig in.

Nudge draws in a deep breath, and I prepare myself. "You know, if they had just wanted to kill her, or kill all of us, they could have," she says shakily. I agree. I had almost died, but they left me alive. "They had _guns_. They wanted Angel _alive_ for some reason. And they didn't care if _we_ were alive or not. I mean, they didn't go out of their way to make _sure_ we were dead, is what I'm saying. So that makes me think we have time to go after Angel again." Her jaw sets.

"But they were in a chopper," Gazzy says, his voice trembling. "They're way gone. They could be anywhere." He swipes at his eyes. "Like, China or something."

Max stands slowly, limping over to where Gazzy is sitting with his chin in his hands, staring at the floor. She ruffles his hair. "I don't think they took her to China, Gazzy," she says, voicing my thoughts.

"We know where they took her," I cut in, popping the last piece of ravioli into my mouth. I scrape the bottom of the bowl with my fork, wincing at the screech.

"Where's that?" Iggy asks. His hand goes up like a school kid, and his red, bloodshot eyes stare at a spot close to my right ear.

"The School," I say at the same time as Max.

As you can imagine, that went over very, very well.

**By the way, this is the longest chapter I have ever written. It has exactly 2,324 words. I'm so proud of myself. *Winks* Review, y'all.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Omg, omg, omg, I'm SOOO sorry. I re-read the chapter last night and it was chock-full of typos as you may have noticed. I edited it but my editor thing is, like, broken: it says that it has been successfully saved but it actually has NOT been successfully saved. I'll have to do a better error check in the future.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. The triple-Z: zip, zilch, zero.**

Gazzy's expression is one of absolute terror; Nudge stifles a gasp, and Iggy's eyes narrow. He slowly pushes Nudge up so that she is sitting straight and trains his sightless gaze on me.

"They took Angel back to the School?" Gazzy whispers. He looks like he wants to cover his eyes, and I remember his little sob scene in the forest. I feel terrible immediately.

"I think so," says Max, her voice shaking.

My throat closes up. I rarely ever see Max losing control like this. It's kind of like when you get a talking toy: before it can talk, there's a plastic tab that you have to pull out of its back. Someone has pulled out Max's emotional plastic tab, and now she can't hold herself together.

"Why?" Nudge asks. "After four years, I thought maybe they had forgotten-"

"They want us back," I say a bit angrily. _Of course _they want us back! People like that don't just forget. They keep coming after you like Prince Humperdinck wannabes.

"They'll never forget about us," Max reminds us. "Jeb wasn't supposed to take us out of there."

As usual, the second Jeb's name is mentioned, guilt wracks me. If it weren't for us, he'd still be alive. Well, if you call what the whitecoats are doing _living_.

"Jeb knew they'd do anything to get us back," I explain calmly. "If anyone ever discovered what they did to us, it would be the end of the School." Just thinking about it gives me pleasant little chills.

Suddenly I remember something. I stand up and sweep out of the room.

See, the problem with just going to someone with our amazing story is that the School would be over, but so would we. We'd end up at a zoo or some other tourist attraction. Okay, call us selfish. But our only real thought is to survive.

Maybe we're still a bit primitive.

I enter Max's room and head straight for the closet. Buried in the back is…ah ha. I thought it would take a bit more digging. I grab the objects and leap back down the stairs to the kitchen. As I enter, I notice the cloud of doom that seems to grow in my chest as I get nearer to the table, suffocating me. I swallow it down and shake some gifts from our mousey friends off of the old papers I'm clutching in my hand.

"Eew," says Nudge. She wipes her nose with her sleeve and sniffs. "Eew. Was that-"

"Here." I shove the papers in Max's face, cutting off Nudge. She looks a bit relieved.

The papers are Jeb's, left over from when he rescued us from the School. We had moved all his stuff to the back of Max's closet so that we didn't have to look at it all the time. I was afraid that we had lost them, but here they were. Max helps me spread them out on the table, and I begin sifting through them.

Quickly, I find the paper that I want – or rather, the envelope that I want. It is sealed with a bit of wax. I catch Max's eye for her approval, and then rip off the wax with my thumbnail. My arm throbs.

"What is that?" the Gasman asks, sounding disgusted and curious at the same time. He wrinkles his nose.

"Map," I say shortly, pulling it out of the envelope. I look at it for a moment, then lay it on the table. Iggy turns his back to us and leans on the counter.

"Map of what?" Nudge wiggles forward in her chair, peering over my shoulder. I glance at her for a moment and then return my gaze to the map.

"Map of a secret facility," says Max. I can tell how much it pains her to even be looking at this thing. "In California. The School."

"Whaaat?" Gazzy squeaks. Iggy's face drains of every drop of blood. I hate to see my flock in pain like this, but we needed these plans. It will help us greatly in finding Angel. Speaking of which, we better get moving.

"That's where they took Angel," Max says slowly. "And that's where we have to go to get her back."

"Oh," says Nudge. I can see the wheels turning in her brain. "Yeah. We have to get Angel back. We can't let her stay there – with them. They're – monsters. They're going to do bad things to her. And put her in a cage. Hurt her." Nudge is breathing in short little pants, her long, brown fingers drumming the table like we're discussing the weather. "But there's five of us. So the rest of us have to go get _hmph – "_

Max clamped her hand down on Nudge's mouth. Nudge unpeeled Max's fingers and said, "Uh, how far is it?"

"Six hundred miles, more or less," I say, calculating it. "At least a seven-hour flight, not including breaks."

"Can we _discuss _this?"Iggy asks, not turning. "We're way outnumbered."

"No." Max looks down at the map again, scanning it. Inside, I'm screaming at Iggy. _Discuss it_? Jeezum, the girl could be dead already, and he wants to sit and have a cuppa tea?

"Can we take a vote?" Iggy sounds a bit, well, scared. And rebellious. "They had _guns_. And a chopper."

"Iggy. This is not a democracy," Max says, her voice firm but understanding. I want to shoot the selfish jerk. "It's a Maxocracy. You know we have to go after Angel. You can't be thinking that we should just let them take her." That _is _what he's thinking. It's obvious, and I bet a million bucks that it's written all over his face. "The six of us look after one another – no matter what. None of us is going to live in a cage again, not while I'm alive."

Iggy's head drops with shame. Good. But Max takes a deep breath – she isn't done.

"But actually, Nudge, Fang and I are going after Angel. You and the Gasman – I need you to stay here. Hold down the fort. On the off chance that Angel escapes and makes her way home."

My head snaps up, my eyes wide. There's a moment of dead silence. Then Iggy turns to face Max, shaking, his face flushed.

"You are so full of it," Iggy says dangerously. "That's not why you want us here. Why don't you just say it?" His voice is full of betrayal.

Max is getting impatient, but to my surprise, I'm siding with Iggy. Max has no right to do this to us. Well, actually, she does. But the flock has never been separated like we're about to be. Not at the School, not with Jeb, never. I don't think she really realizes what she's doing.

"Okay," Max says, sounding like she's talking to a six year old. "It's true. I don't want you to come. The fact is, you're _blind_, and while you're a great flyer around here where you know everything, I can't be worrying about you in the middle of a firefight with the Erasers."

Iggy's face twists with anger. He's about to yell back at Max, but Gazzy jumps up onto his chair. He looks so betrayed that I almost yell at Max myself, because it's really killing me to see this little boy cry.

"What about _me_?" Gazzy cries. A tear rolls down his cheek. "I don't _care_ if they have guns and a chopper and Erasers. She's _my_ sister." His heart is broken.

"That's right," says the stone impersonating Max. "And if they want her so bad, they might want _you_ just as bad. Plus, you're a great flyer, but you're eight years old, and we're going to be logging major hours."

Weak. I can't believe what she's doing. I press my lips together as my conscience wracks me. The problem is that I can see Max's side of the argument. Iggy and the Gasman's is just better.

Then Iggy deals his last card.

"Jeb would never have made us stay," he says angrily. "Never. Ever."

The last two words hit me straight in the chest and lodge there like ice picks. I swallow hard, but no one is paying attention to me. Everyone's eyes are glued to Max.

She purses her lips. "Maybe not," she says. "We'll never know. Jeb's dead." She straightens. "Now everyone get your gear together," she finishes, and sweeps out of the room.

**Alright. I think this one's good to go. Please tell me if there's a mistake. REVIEWWWW! It's the rule of the story, you know. And by the way, if you favorite it but don't bother to review, I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. I WILL PM YOU UNTIL YOU DO WHAT I SAY.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hiya. So here I am sitting in front of the computer again. I'm coming full circle.**

"Fang?"

I look up from my backpack that I'm throwing together, burying the chocolate bar I just put in deep to the bottom. Gazzy's standing in the doorway, his hand shoved in the pocket of his jacket.

"Yeah?" I say. I stand and he looks up at me, his eyes wide.

"Why doesn't Max want me to come get Ange?" he asks. He pushes his hands farther into the jacket, making the star on it stretch downward. He looks at the floor. "She's my baby sister. I'm s'posed to protect her."

I'm just standing there awkwardly, wishing I'd stayed down, my brain scrambling for a response. "Max loves you just as much as Angel," I say finally. "She doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, but I won't get hurt. I'll beat those stupid whitecoats into a pulp." His eyes narrow, and he takes his fists out of his pocket so that he can mash them together in the universal sign for _Don't mess with this mess._

"Gaz." I kneel and look him in the eyes. "Put yourself in Max's shoes."

"I don't like Max's shoes," Gazzy mumbles. "And they don't fit me, anyways."

"Listen," I say. "Did you ever think…The Erasers saw us here. So they're coming back."

"Obviously," Gazzy says, nodding. Then he brightens. "You think we could take 'em? Me and Iggy? Blow 'em up or somethin'?"

I nod.

"And we can make sure that the house doesn't get blown up too!"

"That would be nice." I send a prayer to the big man that they will not blow up the house. I honestly wouldn't put it past them.

"But still."Gazzy crosses his arms, and my hope falls. I'd been hoping to distract him. I guess that ain't happening. "I need to go. Angel is MY sister."

"Fang!" Max yells. "What are you doing, packing your whole closet? Come on!"

"Sorry," I say, and push past Gazzy. I clomp down the stairs, zipping my backpack and swinging it on as I hit the last step.

Max narrows her eyes. "You're so slow."

"No," I say, "just at ease."

At once I realize that it's the wrong thing to say. Max snorts and turns her back to me. Nudge is already outside, looking worried.

"Come on, guys," she says. "We need to get going. It's already almost eleven and it takes us seven hours to get there, which means we won't be there until six if we stop, but we will stop, hopefully, so maybe we won't get there until seven, which is eight hours from now, which is a long time, so we need to –"

Max cuts her off with a glare.

"Max," Iggy shouts. He must have come down the stairs without me noticing. "Please."

"No," Max shouts, and leaps into the air. I adjust my pack over my wings and snap them open, enjoying the feel of the wind in my feathers. For a moment all I can see is shiny blackness as they cover my face, but then they fly open to the sun. I run forward and then pull myself off the ground, experiencing the one terrifying moment where I don't think I'm going to make it. But then my boots clear the grass and I'm airborne.

Nudge gives the boys one last, quick hug each and follows us. Her wings are the same color as her light brown hair, creating an altogether caramelized effect that makes my mouth water.

Then we fall into formation and begin flying.

**!**

About two hours later, we have crossed the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and are flying straight into the sun. Max opens her mouth, and I half-wish something would fly into it – a small bird, maybe. I am starting to get seriously annoyed with her.

"We clear on Plan B?" she asks for the twentieth time.

I nod, and Max's eyes unfocus for a second. Then she shakes her head and turns to Nudge.

"Uh-huh," says Nudge, and plunges straight into a play-by-play. "If we get separated somehow – though I don't see how we could, unless maybe one of us gets lost in a cloud or something – do you think that could happen? I haven't ever been inside a cloud. I bet it's creepy. Can you see anything inside a cloud –?"

Max shoots her a look, and she pauses. I consider how we can go from talking about saving our fellow human-avian hybrid to talking about clouds.

"We meet up at the northmost point of Lake Mead," Nudge finishes quickly.

Max nods."And the School?"

I tune out of their little conversation – I've heard it about twenty times already – and focus on the ground whipping past below us at ninety miles an hour. The mountains had faded to desert, and the shifting sand below us give off heat that we can see, like it's asphalt.

"On the plus side," Max says in my direction, "flying is just really, really cool."

I look at her and give her a half-smile in order to make her think that I've been listening to her for the past five minutes. She blushes a little, her white and tan wings working powerfully above her shoulders. Our wing tips brush. She doesn't even notice.

"On the minus side, we're mutant freaks who will never live a normal life," Max finishes, glancing at me. I shrug.

"Win some, lose some," I say, and am rewarded with a wry smile from her. I can tell that she thinks that ninety miles an hour isn't fast enough, but we can't go any faster. Nudge is struggling at this speed, and we have to stop soon. Everyone is getting hungry, including Nudge, who is holding her stomach. But when she opens her mouth, it isn't to ask for food.

"Max?" she begins, looking at said Max. "I was thinking. I mean, right before we left? I just looked at Jeb's old files, you know? And some of them were about us. Or me. I saw my name on a page, my real name, Monique, and then some other people's names, and then – Tipisco, Arizona. Tipisco is right on the Arizona-California border – I found it on a map. Real tiny town, it looked like. Anyway, I was thinking, none of us ever knew our real parents, and you know, we've always wondered, or at least I mean I've always wondered, but I guess the rest of you have too, like, whether they gave me up voluntarily or whether –"

**(A/N: If you care, that little speech of Nudge's is 113 words long. :O)**

"Nudge. I know how you feel. But those names might not have anything to do with you. We don't know if we were just test-tube babies or what. Please. Let's focus on rescuing Angel."

Max is unconsciously shooting down Nudge's dream, but I see it in her very expression: her arms cross, her shoulders hunch, and her brow furrows. Amazingly, she doesn't say anything.

"Nudge?"

"Yeah," says Nudge slowly, a bit angrily, "okay. I was just thinking."

Max's face suddenly dawns with the realization that she's going to pay for this later. I bite back a laugh and focus on our rescue mission.

**There she be. *smiles* I love everyone who reviews! And just out of curiosity, what's your favorite song? Tell me, tell me, tell me! Loves and kisses, Schne**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: HI! House to myself, mom is out getting food for kittens, and my sister accompanied her, dressed entirely in orange. I live in a family of weirdoes.**

Hi. Little Fangnote here.

Max has the gall, as you know, to hire some old man **(A/N: I am not him!) **to type up our life story. Max even told him to put his name on the book, for safety measures. Now maybe someone might think it's fiction.

Anyway, Max told him to add in bits and pieces from the point of view of other characters. Like in the next chapter of her book. Angel told him a brief summary, and he just filled it in however he pleased, la-di-dah. Oh, I could _kill_ Max for letting him do that. Now what Angel _really_ saw and experienced in this chapter is lost to history. And I'm not going to make the same mistake of typing from inside another Flock member's mind. I mean, I know each of us better than everyone – it's what happens when you shut your mouth for a bit and just observe. But I will not – I repeat, will _not_ – violate another Flock member's privacy to their own mind like that. (Just because we live together doesn't mean that we're all Angel clones.) It goes against the grain, if you catch my drift.

Okay, maybe I should get back to the story. You can probably tell that I could go on for an entire chapter about this. (Just wait until he tries to write from inside MY head.) But I have my responsibilities.

I am just about to ask Max if we can stop for some food when Nudge beats me to the buzzer.

"Max? I'm starving," she says. I totally agree with her. My own stomach is just about as empty as empty can be.

Max hesitates. I can tell that anything that stops us from getting Angel is in her bad books. But she is hungry too.

"Okay, okay, we need food," she admits after a moment. "Fang! We need to refuel. Ideas?"

No. I have no ideas whatsoever. I ponder for a moment, aware of the girls watching me. I glance down at the San Francisco Peaks below us, and an Idea flashes through my brain.

I shoot a glance to Max. She's still watching me. I can tell that our brainwaves are in sync. "Ski slopes," she says, confirming my thoughts. "Summertime. Empty houses." Bravo, Max. Sometimes I have to wonder about that girl.

"Would they have _food_?" Nudge asks, looking worried. A piece of frizzy hair falls in her eyes, and she brushes it away automatically.

"Let's go find out," Max says. Nudge nods bravely at Max, but as we begin circling the peaks to find a house, her face crumples again. She looks like this whole Angel thing is affecting her more deeply than Max could know. I'm so busy watching her and trying to figure out a way to comfort her without making her get suspicious that I don't even notice at first that Max has gone into a dive. By the time I've joined her, Nudge has removed all trace of pain from her face and had joined us, her brows set determinedly.

The house that Max has chosen is set a bit apart from the rest, and looks empty. We land about a hundred yards away, stumbling a bit from all that time in the clouds. "Land Legs," we like to call it. (Max leaves this out – too weird for her, I suspect.) Then we fold our wings and creep toward the house.

There is no sign of life whatsoever. The whole house looks sad and unattended – there isn't even a blinking alarm system. Max gives Nudge a thumbs-up, and the latter smiles sadly. The former doesn't notice her emotions, just looks relieved that she doesn't talk. I scan the scene. The peeling porch is covered with dirt and pine needles, the railings with rust, and the chairs with multiple types of animal droppings. The shrubbery is way overgrown. I have to say that I don't have too much hope for this place, food wise.

Max slits the window screen with her pocketknife, and unlocks the screen inside. She lifts the screen away from the window and sets it down carefully behind a bush. Flight time: 3.24 seconds. She's fast. You'd think she had experience.

I help her open the wooden frame and climb in to catch Nudge. A second later, said Nudge appears in the frame, her frizz making a halo around her head in the light. She jumps and lands in my arms, and I set her down carefully. Max scrambles in a second later, landing on the ground with a tiny billow of dust. I notice that she decides not to jump into my arms. She turns and carefully shuts the window behind her.

We walk toward the kitchen area, not bothering to creep anymore. Dust covers everything. There's no comforting hum of the refrigerator, so I cast aside any hope of cold food. Maybe of any food.

Max heads for the cupboards, rummages around a bit, and comes up with a dusty can of soup. "Bingo!" she says. Of course, Max, we can't cook it. I take the next cupboard and come up with ravioli – yum. I like it cold. Nudge finds beans and fruit, and Max yells in disgust at something and quietly puts it back in the cupboard. "We're golden!" she yells as I pull out two bottles of fizzy orange soda. We discover why most people serve soda cold as we gulp it down. I let out a belch that I swear rearranges the dust in the kitchen, and Nudge giggles and falls down laughing.

Half an hour later, we're sprawled on the old couches, our hands on our way-too-full bellies. Nudge keeps hiccupping – she drank an entire bottle of soda by herself – and then bursting into another fit of giggles. Max's head lolls backwards, her eyes half open, her entire body looking glazed over.

"Uhhnnhh," Nudge says between giggles. "I feel like, like _concrete._"

"Let's take ten, rest a bit," I say. My eyes flutter shut, and I summon all my strength to cross my legs. I lean back. _Aahh._ "Digest a minute, we'll feel better," I say. I would be surprised if anyone understood that last bit; it sounds more like a garbled sigh to me.

"I second that emotion," Max mumbles.

Then my head falls back, and I drift away.

**Okay, you know the drill. Review. Now. Why are you still here? Click down there on that little blue button…come on…I'll even give you directions…there's arrows pointing to it…now get a move…on…**

**vvvvvvv**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey, all. Shout out to Dozen-Glass-Roses for beautiful on-screen similes. They're sweetness on the screen, or some other such flowery simile. Beautiful. I love to hear stuff like that. It really makes my day when someone reviews and actually tells me something that they liked about the chapter instead of just a bland two words. (Not that I don't appreciate that; it's just if you're going to review, you might as well do it right.)**

(I'm not even going to get started.)

(Okay, well, maybe I am.)

After we read Max's book, this one, at least, Iggy and I put our heads together. We decided to try to think of a way to stop her from this…insanity. The insanity being, of course, trying to write from inside someone else's head.

Although Iggy did like Mr. Patterson's inclusion of the Maxketeers, I talked him out of allowing the sins of impersonation continue. (Whether or not that is actually a sin is unbeknownst to any of us winged kids, but it just sounded cool to me.) Unfortunately, even though Iggy and I threatened her many times (with clipping, maple syrup, butcher knives, ect) she never quite got it through to Mr. Patterson that he was to stop doing so.

So the misery continues.

Anyway.

I wake suddenly to a loud crash and my eyes fly open. I instinctively to a full 360 degree scan to see any danger and my eyes land on Max lying in a scraggly heap on the floor. Nudge is still asleep. Max swears and pulls herself up, and I glance out the window.

_Shat._

It's dark outside, and a full moon is shining brightly, laying strips of light in through the windows. I sneeze violently as Max shakes Nudge violently. Nudge moans and attempts to push Max off.

Oh, crap. Oh, crap. We just wasted, like, twelve hours sleeping like piglets. I pull my Mr. Cool, Calm & Collected mask on over my panicked expression. Ah, that's better.

"Nudge! Nudge! Wake up!" Max shouts. Nudge rolls over and blinks. "Oh, man…" Max moans. I swing my legs over the couch as she glances at me.

"What time is it?" I ask her calmly.

"Almost morning!" she shouts, panic bubbling up inside her voice. _"Of the next day!"_

I slide to my feet and go straight to the cupboard, pulling out my backpack and stuffing it with food.

"What's happ'nin'?" Nudge mumbles incoherently.

"We fell asleep!" Max yells, and I resist the urge to add the words _obviously, _and _what do you think we are, stupid?_ But I feel bad. Max is panicking. She loves that little girl to death.

By now, Max has her shoes on. "Fang, you can't carry all that," she tells me. "It'll weigh you down. Nothing's heavier than cans."

I shrug and pull on the backpack, stretching it under my wings. Inside, I glow with her concern, but the blackness of my exterior shuts it out before it can reach Max's eyes. I slip through the room and shimmy out through the window, dropping to the ground below me with barely a crunch.

I lift into the air and circle high above like a hawk. Below me, the tiny cabins are all sleeping, and I can barely distinguish ours from the rest. But then I see Nudge popping out the window like a movie into a return slot, and Max throwing herself out after. They take a running start and lift into the air after me, Max speeding along toward the northwest, Nudge following sleepily behind, and me gliding along behind them, like some sort of Secret Service angel.

Max flaps urgently for a few hours without speaking. She isn't remembering to use the air currents to save her energy, and when she does, it is clumsily. I glide up to her, not about to let her wallow in self-pity for another moment.

"We _had_ to rest," I tell her.

She shoots me an upset glance. "For ten _hours_?" she asks me. Just from her tone of voice I can tell that she's still beating herself black and blue about it.

I sigh internally. "Today we've got another four hours to go, maybe a bit more," I tell her patiently. "We couldn't have done it in one shot. It was late when we left. We're going to have to stop again anyway, right before we get there, and refuel."

She agrees with me reluctantly. A cloud of dread is weighing on my chest like an extra two thousand pounds. I feel like I could drop through the clouds and spiral down to the earth, landing in a big crater on the ground.

We fly in silence for a little while longer, maybe about an hour. Then I can't take it anymore.

"We going to storm the place or what?" I ask, because for all her reviewing on Plan B, Plan A hadn't really been explained yet.

Nudge gives a hard downstroke and soared forward, so that she is gliding below us with her arms outstretched like Superman. "Yeah, Max, I was wondering that too," she calls so we can hear her. "I mean, there's only three of us, and a whole bunch of them. And the Erasers have guns. Could we, like, drive truck through the gates? Or even into a building? Or maybe we could wait till nightfall, sneak in, and sneak in, and sneak out with Angel before anyone notices us."

This seems to cheer her up a bit, and she flies along in silence for a bit. I wonder _again_ why Max didn't cave to Iggy and Gazzy to let them come. On the first hand, I still feel bad about leaving them there. On the second hand, I love both these girls, but I'd appreciate some brotherly Y chromosome. And on the third hand, and if you tell anyone this I will cheerfully break every bone in your body, I miss my bros. They always lighten things up around here.

Wait a second. Let me just dig up a third hand. I know I have one around here somewhere…

At this point, we are starting to pass above suburbia. A gray road loops and spirals below us, with tiny little cars moving slowly on it. Big flat roofs cover a surprising amount of land, and tiny clusters of houses zoom by. We pass a school district, and a flock of birds flies by, checking us out. If they had eyebrows, they'd be raised to the heavenly dome.

"Gosh," Nudge blabs, "I wonder what Iggy and the Gasman are doing now? Maybe they got the TV working again. I hope they don't feel too bad. It would have – I mean, I guess it's kind of easier for them to be home. But I bet they're not cleaning up or getting wood or any of they're chores."

I wonder what she was going to say. Then I realize that she was going to say that it would have been nice for them to be here with us, sharing this experience.

I wholeheartedly agree.

Next to me, Max looks down for a moment, then takes a second glance. I follow her gaze to see a bunch of large boys surrounding a small girl.

Oh, no. No, Max. Please, tell me no. I feel a scream building up inside me, and I swallow it down.

Max meets my eyes and opens her mouth.

"No." It's an order. She is _not going down there._

She narrows her eyes, a tiny crinkle appearing between her eyebrows. She opens her mouth to try again.

"_No."_

Then she remembers that she's the leader. "Meet me at the northernmost point of Lake Mead," she says.

"What? What are you talking about?" Nudge asks, sounding confused. Then she remembers something familiar to her. "Are we stopping? I'm hungry again."

"Max wants to go be Supergirl, defender of the weak," I say, irritated. Who is the one beating herself up after we took a rest that we _needed_? Who is the one who's too panicked to even notice the clunky white bandage on my arm? And now, who is the one who wants to help some strange kid who probably doesn't even deserve it?

"Oh," said Nudge. She looks down, waiting for something to become clear to her. She doesn't get it.

_Angel. Angel. Angel._ I attempt to transmit my thoughts to her. Unfortunately, unlike Angel, I can't transmit thoughts. She needs to get these vibes. I swallow another scream. _Angel. Angel. Angel._

"Oh! Max, remember when you got that little rabbit away from the fox, and we kept it in a carton in the kitchen, and then when it was well we let it go? That was cool." Nudge takes a deep breath, then says very quickly, "Did you see another rabbit?"

"Kind of." Max circles. "It'll take two seconds."

I refuse to meet her eyes.

"I'll catch up with you before you've gone forty miles," she promises. Do I detect a pleading tone in her voice? "Just keep on course, and if anything weird happens, I'll meet you at Lake Mead."

There's a pause that Max obviously expects me to fill. When I don't, she says in a chipper little voice, "Okay. See you in a few."

Then she dives down toward the ground, not once bothering to look back up at her miniflock: the confused Nudge and betrayed me, staring after her long after she's forgotten about him.

**There goes Max to save Ella. Obviously we won't be following her. Fang has made it clear what he thinks about writing inside fellow Flock member's heads.**

**Since the next chapter with Fang in it is from FPOV (Fang Point Of View), I was wondering what y'all would think if I let him have another little rant about it. This one would probably be more explosive, since it's his head that's getting violated.**

**Kisses, Schne.**

**F/N: (FANGNOTE) Hi. Maia mite edit out my rant if u guys vote for it. Please dont. She alredy dus enuf editing as it is – catching my tens slips, speling erors and other stuf. (I axed her to leave this paragraf alon. I want u gys to see how it really is.) But the wurds she leaves the same. Exept f its in the rong tens. Im axing you gys to please vote to leave the rant in – becos ill rite it wether or not you say yes. I just don't want all my hard wurk to be 4 nothing. Thnx gys I rely apresiat it. Oh yeah and in order to vote you must revu. Its going to be best out of 10 votes. Which means that 10 pepl must revu! **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I just realized something. I keep forgetting disclaimers! Well, I am disclaiming this story. As in, I'm not claiming it!**

**You have voted for Fang's rant to be in. So here we go…**

F/N:

(continues off into infinity like parallel lines)

Okay. Does Max think I'm some sort of old man James or something? Because I'm _not._ Does she think that some normal grandfather has any idea of what a teenage mutant's brain is like? Because they _don't_. Has her brain become horribly twisted and mutated? _Quite possibly_.

JAMES PATTERSON DOES NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME EXCEPT FOR WHAT MAX HAS TOLD HIM. HE DOES NOT KNOW ME PERSONALLY. HE HAS NEVER MET ME (THANK GOD). HE NEVER WILL MEET ME (IF I CAN HELP IT). HE DOES NOT KNOW WHAT GOES ON INSIDE MY HEAD!

I think that that's the first time that a sentence that I've written has ended in three exclamation points.

NOW LET ME GET BACK TO MY DAMN RANT.

When you picture the word _rant_, what do you see? I know what I see.

I see a person throwing stuff around the room, kicking holes in the walls, pounding their fists on the floor, shaking their fists at the sky, ect.

I did a Fang version of this when I read this chapter. I chucked the book across the room and then just sat there for a few minutes, trying to get myself under control. Then I stormed downstairs and promptly forgot my previous few minutes of meditating when I saw Max. We had a full-blown yelling match, which ended with Iggy dragging me away in one direction and Nudge and Gazzy dragging Max in the other.

Then, I remembered that the entire world could see the lies. And I exploded all over again. I had to fly away for a few days to re-compose myself. When I got back, Max was in tears. She promised never, ever, ever to do it again.

Did she stick to that promise? No, she did not.

I started skipping the chapters that were written from FPOV. Now I'm reading them over, and every time I start a new one, my blood boils. I have to put the book down for a moment and just breathe about every five minutes.

Make that _sentences_.

So let me just repeat myself on my true feelings on this subject:

(continues off into infinity like parallel lines)

Now I'll get to the story.

"Fang?"

Nudge's voice interrupts me from my angry mutterings.

"I'm really hungry, you know?" she asks.

I nod angrily, gesturing to a shallow cliff in the rock face. I angle my body so that I make a tight sweep into the reddish rock. Nudge slows behind me, ducking as she lands inside the cave. I land silently behind her.

I'm still fuming, but I swing off my pack and manage to set in down slightly peacefully. I rip open the zipper and chuck a bag of dried fruit at her, harder than I intend to. She accepts it gratefully, squealing.

Then I remember something. I _had_ been saving it for Max, but that's what happens when you just decide to up and _leave_. I dig out the chocolate bar and wave it in front of her. Her eyes bog.

"Oh, FANG!" she squeals. "Where did you _find _this? You must have been hiding it – you didn't say anything, and all this time you've had _chocolate_, and oh, God, it's so good…"

I allow my mouth to twitch upward as I sit down, taking a bite out of my own piece. I close my eyes to hide the emotion roiling inside of me: the anger at Max, the hate for that girl, the patience for Nudge, and the utter delight at this chocolate.

"So where's Max?" Nudge asks, and my eyes snap open, anger making my nostrils flare. Nudge doesn't notice, just babbles on. "Why'd she go down there? Shouldn't she be back by now? Aren't we supposed to go all the way to Lake Mead? What are we gonna do if she doesn't come back soon –"

I hold up my hand, cutting Nudge off.

"Max saw someone in trouble, down below, and went to help," I say, keeping my voice deliberate and controlled, not a single tremor running through it. "We'll wait here for her; Lake Mead is right below us."

Nudge looks unconvinced. She stands, ducking a little so that she won't hit the ceiling, and walks out to a small landing to see the lake. I sigh and eat the rest of the dried fruit out of the bag.

Then she freezes.

"Uh, _Fang?" _she squeezes out.

I jackknife to my feet and run over to where she's standing, petrified. Then I see what she's seeing and freeze.

In front of us, the ledge curves upward like a halfpipe. A few scrubby bushes are plopped in the dirt, and mixed in with the bushes is a festive dash of lethal hawk mommies in their little lethal hawk mommy nests with little baby lethal hawks. And their yellowish eyes are locked on us.

"What are they?" Nudge says out of the corner of her mouth.

"Ferruginous hawks," I murmur. "Largest raptor in the States. Sit down, _very slowly._ No sudden movements or we're both bird feed."

Trust me, the irony does not escape me.

Nudge sinks slowly to her knees. The hawk's eyes follow her movement, their lethal talons curving around the nests. Nudge does not break eye contact with them, but her whole body is trembling with fear.

"Do you think –" she begins, but I put my hand on top of her head, signaling her to be quiet. Slowly, I sink down to her level, my knees easing onto the grit. Nudge starts to fidget, and I press my hand harder on her head.

I unfold my wing from inside my shirt and extend it slowly, feeling the feathers at the spot where my skin meets wing move. It tickles a little bit.

The hawks all stare at my wing.

"I'm letting them catch my sent," I breathe to Nudge. Her head moves down the tiniest bit, then back up. One hawk has a mutilated gopher hanging from its feral beak, and Nudge is staring at it. Is she really that hungry? I think to myself with an inside grin.

Once my wing is fully extended, seven feet out, the hawks seem to relax. I curl the end of my wing around Nudge protectively.

One by one, the hawks return to whatever they're doing. They're so beautiful, I think, surprising myself. Their wings are similarly colored to Max's, brown with lighter brown mottled spots. The feathers on the undersides of their wings are lighter, like the belly of a kitten. _I did not just think that._

One hawk returns from hunting with a snake trapped in its beak, the ends writhing. Nudge makes a face. "Eew," she says. Her body has slowly stopped shaking, and as the little baby hawks scramble over each other for a bite, her face gets more deeply set into the disgusted expression. "Double eew," she tells me.

I turn my head at one mile per hour and grin at her. She's startled into a grin herself.

Then she sighs and relaxed back, unfolding her own wings a little. She leans into my side, and my arm snakes around her waist of its own volition. She doesn't think anything's odd, just lays her head down on my shoulder as we watch the hawks.

We sit like this for almost an hour, bird watching. (Again, I notice the irony, thanks.) Then Nudge speaks.

I knew it had to end.

"Angel's _waiting_ for us," she says. "I mean, she's like a little sister, like everyone's little sister."

She brushes off some tiny pebbles embedded in her knee and scowls. With her other hand she picks at a huge scab on her knee. I hold my bandaged arm over her hand, stilling her movement.

"At night, when we're supposed to be asleep," she confides, "me and Angel talk and tell jokes and stuff." Her huge brown eyes meet mine, and I'm dismayed to see that they're full of water. "I mean, am I going to have to sleep in that room alone, whenever we get home? Max has to come back. She won't let Angel go, right?"

"No, she won't let Angel go," I say, trying to think of a different subject. "Look – you see that big hawk, the one with the dark stripe on its shoulders – you see how he seems to move one wing faster than the other when he banks? It makes his bank really tight and smooth. We should try it."

Nudge stares at me, then turns around. "Yeah, I see what you mean," she says. I stand and run to the edge of the cliff, hoping she doesn't topple over.

I spread my wings just as I leap off the edge, swooping up in a curved motion toward the circling hawks. They eye me warily, but allow me to join.

I tuck one wing in closer to my side and extend the other one to its full length, wheeling around in midair with the rest of the flock. They eye me again, but this time with grudging respect.

Nudge is still just sitting there, so I swoop down to the entrance to the cave. "Come on!" I yell as I pass. "Try it! You'll fly better."

As I soar back to the hawks, I see Nudge stand and fling herself off the cliff. Her tawny wings extend like razor points slicing the sky and she slides through the sky like soap. She gives one hard downstroke and glides up to me. I demonstrate the move for her, and she pulls in one wing and throws out the other in sync with the flock and I. We circle through the sky-blue nothingness in unison, and I smile at her, a genuine smile. She grins back.

Then the hawks show us more tricks: spreading their wing tips slows a circle without having to flap every fourth second. (Don't you hate the word _flap?_ It sounds so Disney.) I try it, spreading the feathers. It feels the same as spreading my fingers.

It's so cool how we can tell everything that the hawks are about to do just by watching their body language. I can tell when they're about to slow when they spread their tail feathers, or when they're about to speed up when they give an extra hard push. We soar above the clouds for hours, feeling weightless and extraordinary.

After a while, though, I tell Nudge we have to stop. It's dark, and I want to be ready to leave tomorrow when Max gets back. She makes a small fuss, but I can tell she's exhausted. We tuck in our wings and glide to the cave entrance, landing with a small bump. The hawks turn in a few minutes after we are settled, out wings lying flat out. Nudge rests her head on her arms, her back arched down. We both watch the parent hawks grooming the baby hawks, getting them settled down and ready to sleep.

She sniffs. I lie down next to her and cover her with my wing.

"What?" I ask gently.

"These birds," she says. She wipes her eyes. "Like, these dumb hawks have more of a mom than I ever had. The parents are taking care of the little ones. No one ever did that for me. Well, besides Max. But she's not a mom."

"Yeah," I say quietly, "I get it." My voice sounds sad, even to me. Because moms don't leave you to help random strangers. They don't forget about their daughters, cold and alone in a torture lab.

I hold out my fist. Wearily, Nudge stacks hers on top and then taps my hand. We always do it before bed.

Except this night, it is just the two of us.

"Night," Nudge whispers, her vice catching. She curls up against the wall of the cave, and I stretch my wing farther to cover her.

"Night, Nudge," I murmur in the darkness.

**Here you go. I wrote this on April 4, without the rant. I wonder when I'll get 10 reviews? Right now I only have 5. And I know that 10 people get a story alert. I counted.**

**Night, Readers.**

**OH OH OH WAIT! I need a Beta! *cough cough* D-G-R *cough cough***

**Nifty: -running thru with CatHat- Muahahaha!**

**Me: Wait WHAT? This isn't even your story, you freak!**

**Mr. Gartland:…?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hai.**

**Nifty: -stops in tracks- Wait, where the hell am I?**

**Mr. Gartland: That's kind of what I'm wondering.**

**Me: I'll tell you when you give me back the damn hat, Nifty.**

**Nifty: Then I guess I'll never know! –cackles-**

**Me: NOOO**

**Mr. Gartland: -checking awesomely beast pocket watch that, yes, dangles from a chain on his belt loop- Uh, Schne, I need to plan for SAC.**

**Me: I'm sure that Ms. Crowley will manage on her own. And so will Nick and Joe- I mean Peeta.**

**Mr. Gartland: Aren't you forgetting something?**

**Me: Oh, yeah. The disclaimer. **

**DISCLAIMER: Neither me nor the second graders own Maximum Ride.**

**Mr. Gartland: You're right. And the second graders are mine.**

**Me: WAIT WHERE'S NIFTY? SHE STOLE THE CATHAT! T-T DX**

**Mr. Gartland: -sighs-**

I wake early the next morning. My wing feels stiff and a little sore from covering Nudge all night, so I pull it back in and fold it loosely. Aah.

Gingerly, I peel the wrapping back from the wound on my arm, shaking out the remote. The wound is red and swollen, and the bullet hole is surrounded by pus. Infected. The second I take out the remote, it starts throbbing like I've dunked the whole thing in salt. Amazing what a little support can do, huh? I cup my hand under it and look closer at it.

Well, shoot. I'd say it needs stitches. And a lot of stitches. A pair of nice, sterile tweezers would help as well, 'cause the bullet is still in there. There's nothing like an infected hole in your arm to wake you up in the morning.

I rummage in the backpack, propping my arm on my knee. I pull out the gauze and wind it around my arm, this time putting in a fairly straight stick instead of the remote. This way it won't be as clunky.

My heart leaps to my throat when I see how quickly the discharge soaks through the wrapping. I calm myself. It isn't that big a deal, I might just have to get my arm removed if I let it fester. And getting an arm removed? Psh.

I layer more and more gauze on until there is no trace of yellow on it. Then I stand up, stretch, and unfold my wings. They spring out from behind me, filling my peripheral vision, before they fall back at attention. I run off the cliff and extend my wings slowly, letting them fill with air like huge black balloons. I soar downward for a moment before I loop back up and around to the hawks.

I wonder if this is all they do all day – just soar around. I wouldn't mind it. As soon as I approach them, they move over and make space for me and my huge wingspan, which is about three times the size of theirs. We wheel in formation. I feel like a spoke on a wheel, and suddenly, I feel almost every worry fall off my shoulders. My face relaxes, and we loop around as one being.

Suddenly, Nudge is sailing toward us, her wings slicing the sky. We sift our position again so that she's let in.

"Morning," I say.

"I'm hungry," she says, predictably.

I nod. "Town about three minutes away. Follow me."

I tilt my body to the side and peel off easily from the hawks like a sticker from its backing. Nudge attempts to imitate me, but it doesn't work as well for her. She mutters something under her breath. Okay, Nudge, I won't tell Max what you just said. But you owe me.

We soar together, guardian angels looking over this tiny city. I scan the ground for Max. Walking, running, flying to meet us, or even curled up somewhere, injured. Anything. But I don't see her. I sigh and point to a fast-food restaurant with a huge Dumpster out back. The last thing I want to do is eat trash, but so it goes.

Someone is throwing stuff in there, so we circle above the town, practicing our new tricks. Or at least that's what _I'm_ doing. Nudge is just kind of hovering there, her eyes glued to the food, her wings pushing air at me every two seconds until it's like my own personal A/C.

When the worker goes inside and doesn't come out for ten minutes, I signal Nudge. We pull our wings in and drop like rocks, shoving them back out hard when we're thirty feet above the Dumpster.

"Nirvana," I say, pawing through the Dumpster. I swear, with all the wasted food in this thing you could feed a starving village in Africa. I hold out a thin patty to Nudge. "Burger?"I say, the same way some people might say "Pickled pig's foot?"

Nudge hesitates, then says, "I don't know, after seeing the hawks shredding little animals – oh, but look, here's a couple salads. And some apple pies! Bonus!"

I stare at her as she tightens the drawstring of her jacket, half expecting her to take one look at the salad and go, "Oh, there's no feta cheese, forget it." We can't be going all vegetarian, here, Nudge. She ignores me, happily stuffing down three salads and about six apple pies. I shrug and follow her lead. I almost grab a carton of French fries before I remember that they'll probably all spill down my jacket, so I grab another burger instead.

A few seconds later we're airborne, with a few decidedly odd lumps in our jackets. We head back to the cave and pounce on the food like starving piggies. Yeah, Fang the piggy. Great mental image, no?

I finish my fifth "burger" – if you can call it that – and wipe my hands on my jeans. "You know, I think the way they swoop and stuff is a message to the other hawks," I say. "Like they're telling them where there's a game or where they'll be or something. I haven't figured it out yet. But I will."

"Oh," says Nudge. Cue the loud, climactic music! Fang said more than the Nudge Channel!

We sit in silence for a minute. The feel of the air slowly changes from comfortable and nice to tense and nervous and cranky and panicky.

"Fang?" Nudge says, her voice trembling. "We've just got to go find Max. Or should we go on and try to find Angel?"

I look away from the hawks. "We're going to circle back, look for Max," I state calmly. Inside, anger is roiling again at the mention of Max. "She might have – run into something."

Nudge nods. I shake my anger away. It's not Nudge's fault that Max has abandoned us. In fact, Nudge has no idea what's going on.

I stand up, not bothering to brush off the dust from my jeans. "You ready?" I ask her. She squints and holds up her hands in front of her eyes, squinting at me through her fingers.

"Absolutely," she says, jumping to her feet. Well, _she _takes the time to brush sand from her sequined butt. I jump off the cliff before she can ask her next question, my wings lifting me up from the rocky edge like I'm sliding belly-first on a track.

"Tarzan!" I hear her yell from behind me. I smile.

**!**

Hours later, we are _still_ circling above the area where Max had left us. A growing cloud of frustration is building in my stomach. I don't want to go back to _exactly _where Max had left us because someone might be looking out for mutant flying bird kids. And they would see us, and possibly hurt us the same way as they possibly hurt her.

"…Fang?"  
Oh, jeez.

"Do you remember where we left Max?"

"Yes."  
"…Are we going there?"

I pause. "Not if we can help it."

I sense her confusion. "But why? Maybe Max is hurt and needs help. Maybe we need to save her before we save Angel." I can sense her sorting her thoughts around in her head.

I pull in one wing and extend the other, using the first trick the hawks had taught us. Nudge follows me, waiting for an answer. Her hairpin bank is still a bit sloppy, and so I do it again while I ponder an answer, letting her practice it. We wheel in slow, tight circles, around and around and around and around.

"I don't think Max would have gotten hurt by herself," I say slowly. "She's not going to fly into a tree or crash-land. So if she's late because she's hurt, it probably means that someone, a person, has hurt her. Which means that someone knows about her. We don't want that someone to know about us, too. Which they would if we went to where Max is."

Nudge's jaw drops. I continue, feeling self-conscious.

"And if Max is late because she's busy, then our going to her won't speed things up – she'll come when she's good and ready. So for right now, we do a general look-see. But we're not going all the way back."

I look down at an intersection. A sign catches my eye. It says, Tipisco, Arizona, 3 miles.  
My heart leaps into my throat. Oh, no. That's where Nudge says she's from. If she sees that sign…

I try to gently lead her in another direction, but she refuses to. She's eyeing me out of the corner of her eye, so I eye her right back.

Nudge is a good kid. Sure, she talks a lot, and she eats as much food as Gazzy and Angel combined, but she's got a kind heart. And she's actually really pretty. Her hair is a few shades lighter than her skin, her wings somewhere in between, the color of a faun. Her eyes are big and brown, framed with long lashes, and right now they're filling with tears.

Oh, no, not now.

She averts her gaze and then goes still, dropping a few feet.

"Fang!" she shouts. "It's Tipisco, down below! I'm going there!"

Oh, no. She'd seen the sign.

"No way, Nudge," I say. I purposely let a touch of my anger into my voice. "Don't get sidetracked now. Stay with me."

"No!" she says. Jeez, just what we need now – a rebellious preteen. She hunches her shoulders and begins her dive. "I have to go find my parents! If Max is gone, I'm going to need someone."

My eyes widen of their own volition. "What? Nudge, you're crazy," I tell her. "Come on, let's talk about it. Let's find a place, take a break."

"No!" says Nudge again, her voice breaking. "I'm going down – and you can't stop me!"

**Now for a real A/N:**

**On the last chapter, I had a whole bunch of things that the site edited out. I had about a bajillion "A"s that they took out, right before the (continues off into infinity like parallel lines) bit. So. And I also had three exclamation points on the sentence before "I think that's the first time I've ever written a sentence with three exclamation points."**

**I would go back and edit it, but I want to see who catches it. **

**Also: ME NEED BETA! And I need someone to explain just exactly what I do when I have a beta. –smiles-**

**Sorry, I know this chapter was a filler. But I have approximately 5 minutes to post this until Project PULL decides to kill me. So here goes.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Okay, here it is. Ready? Set? PULL.**

"I'm leaving."

"Sure," Nudge agrees tensely. I sigh and trudge after her, following her dark little body as it darts between overgrown cars.

"Seriously."

Nudge doesn't say anything. All I can hear is her labored breathing. It must have rained here last night, because there's deep mud. Our footsteps squelch with every step.

"Nudge, I-"

"Can you just shut up, Fang?" Nudge spits. Possibly the first time anyone's ever given me that particular command. I retreat into angry silence, concentrating on her pants and the oozing sound of mud in our shoes. Well, her shoes. My boots are too high to get mud in.

She glances up for the fiftieth time, checking the numbers on the porches. Claustrophobia is kicking in: I can imagine the dull gray trailers stretching upward, higher and higher, so close together that I can't beat my wings, so far forward that I can't see the end. I swallow down a lump of hysteria.

"Nudge, for the last time, give this up," I try. "This is a bad idea. A *terrible* idea."

She doesn't respond, just shoots me a furious glance. We emerge from the close-set homes to the street. Across are more mobile queendoms. Down the street is a crossroad. I squint.

"Come on," I say. "I see Chaparral Court." Anything to get me out of this dull, terrifying trailer park.

We walk along next to the road. There is no sidewalk, only overgrown, prickly bushes determined to stab every square inch of our bodies. Nudge nearly trips over an old microwave, its insides sprawled out on the ground like a forgotten surgery. We're forced into the street when a car skeleton looms out of nowhere, looking sad and ghostlike. Graffiti covers it, and old spray paint cans pepper the ground around it, thrown into the dirt at odd angles, so that they lean crookedly into the sky, nozzles pointing up into the fog. Nudge swallows.

We crunch beside the car and I steal a glance at her. She's shaking. Sweat beads her forehead and upper lip.

"What if they moved?" I ask again, trying to sound gentle. My voice ends up coming out sharper than a razor wire as usual. "What if you misunderstood what you read and these people aren't related to you at all?" Then, feeling kind of bad, and using extra effort to add gentleness into my voice: "Nudge, even if you weren't a test tube baby - which you probably were - what if there was a reason they gave you up? They might not want you back."

"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" she nearly spits at me. I remain calm, holding my body still and unaffected before her hurricane. "I know that! But I have to try. I mean -" she pauses and lowers her voice, looking around "- if there's the slightest chance - wouldn't you try?"

I pause.

"I don't know," I say finally, as a result of my meditation.

"That's because you don't need anything or anybody," she says, looking back at the park. "But I'm not like that. I need people."

I'm silent. Does she really think I don't need anyone? I need her and the flock to survive. To be whole. To live and breathe. I need them.

I need Max.

The force of this statement hits me like a hurricane: partly because I even thought it, and partly because it's true. True like my wings are hurting like hell from being pressed so hard against my back. I feel like I'm trying to suck them in to my spine, retract them into my body until only the tips poke out my skin.

Nudge is trembling beside me. She's really sweating now. Then something clicks in my peripheral hearing. I tense up, and Nudge sucks in a sharp breath.

A mobile queendom is opening, and an African American woman is stepping out. Nudge looks at her own arms quickly, comparing. The shade of chocolate brown is more or less the same.

The woman descends the cheap steps from her door and settles into an old plastic lawn chair, brushing dead pine needles from her seat before she sits. She flicks open a lighter, and, shielding the flame from the wind, lights a cigarette. Her hair is wrapped in a wet towel, and a few dripping dreadlocks fall over one shoulder. She takes a drag on her cigarette, then pops the top of a Coke and takes a huge gulp. Our raptor vision can make out her throat bobbing up and down.

"Coke. It's not just for breakfast anymore," I whisper, and Nudge elbows me and then sits back on her heels, still watching the woman.

So now what? I think. What's your plan now, Nudgey? Are you going to just stroll op to that lady and be all like, "Did you lose a kid? Misplace one? Cos I found one in the lost and found when I was digging for a raincoat."

"Looking for something, freaks? Guess you found it."

S H beep T spells Eraser. Right behind us. Wow Fang, defenses are slipping.

Nudge jackknifes to her feet. I whip around into a defensive crouch, one hand barely touching the dirt, ready to spring up at a moment's notice. Then I see their leader.

The sight of him is so shocking that I almost lose my balance, but disguise it by springing to me feet. The Eraser's are morphing behind us, their muzzles elongating, their snouts nosing the air in search of blood.

"Ari," I say, like Transformers are something I see every day. Ha ha. Not.

"Ari!" Nudge gasps, horrified. "You were just a little kid!"

"And now I'm a great big grown up Eraser," he said, voicing my thoughts exactly. He clicked his teeth and grinned happily. "And you're a little brown piglet. Yum."

Okay, maybe I wasn't thinking the second part.

"What did they do to you?" Nudge murmurs. "I'm sorry, Ari." Ha. It rhymes.

"Save your pity for yourself," he leers. There is something in his voice, but I can't quite place it. What's the opposite of love and affection? "I'm exactly who I want to be. And I've got some news for you." He rolls up his sleeves, like he doesn't want to get them dirty. Wow, he's buff. Of course, the last time I saw him, I could wrap my pinkie finger around his bicep. "Your hideout in the mountains is nothing but ashes. Your pals keep having unfortunate accidents. You two are the last ones alive - and now we've got you."

Ah, I know. Hatred and the desire to mutilate everything around you until it lies in bloody ribbons on the ground. That's it.

But wait a second. Ig? Gaz? DEAD? Does not comPUTE, ye overgrown dogs. I glance at Nudge, who's sobbing but still managing to hold herself together. My jaw clenches and my hands coil into fists as she glances at me. I watch Ari instead.

"Pinwheel," I breathe in the corner of my mouth. Unfortunately, the overgrown dog hears me. His eyes narrow and his smile turns upside down.

"Cholla first," Nudge says. I spy the cholla she's talking about.

"Count of three." Which means count of one.

Ari leans over and shoves me hard. I lose my balance. "One," I say shakily, regaining my footing. Nudge shoots out from nowhere and slugs another Eraser hard, sending him howling into the prickly needles of the cholla cactus. He tries to get off but only succeeding in impaling himself deeper into the cactus. Lovely.

Nudge launches herself at me, arms outstretched. I catch her smooth wrists and fly her around in a huge loop, her feet knocking the Erasers over into more cactuses like dominoes. My arms screams in fury. Too bad. They roar and shriek but they still fall over. I let her go and she spins off into the sky, beating her huge brown w-

"You're gonna die, mutant," Ari growls, and dives for my feet. He wraps his huge arms around my ankles and I go crashing down on top of him. Quick as lightning, he rolls us over so that he"s on top, and starts beating me up.

He's heavy. I can't breathe. His rock hard fists are finding every sensitive area on my chest, getting closer and closer to my face. Another Eraser slams his steel-tipped shoe into my side, and I almost black out. Then Ari catches my chin at an angle, almost snapping my jawbone. My head jerks sideways unconsciously, my cheekbone hitting a pointed rock in the dirt. Ari karate chops my chest with a roar, almost snapping ribs. My breath - the small amount that I had left - leaves my body so fast it's painful.

I can't think. My entire body is screaming. Blood is pouring from my mouth, covering the green grass with dark red. I take another hit, and another. The steel toe slams me again and again. Ari's fist finds my nose, almost breaking it. Maybe it is broken. But judging from the feel of things, so is just about every other bone in my body.

I start jerking convulsively. I can no longer breathe. Blood is filling my airway. Then I hear a wheeze, and then a loud hiss.

Ari jumps off me. I don't know why, but I do know to get my sorry ass out of the way. I leap up and in the same moment am airborne before I have a chance to hack my insides out through my throat.

Nudge throws a paint can at Ari's head, and through a haze of pain, I see that his head is green. Green? Oh, Nudge must have sprayed him.

"You're dead, freaks!" Ari shouts, spitting mad. His friends are all jumping around crazily, trying to pull cactus needles out of themselves. He wipes green paint out of his streaming eyes.

"Oh, like you're not a freak yourself," Nudge shouts back. "Try looking in a mirror, dog boy!"

Ari screams with rage, fumbling in his pants pocket with his too-long fingernails. Ever hear of nail clippers? Then he pulls out a gun, and we zoom out of there.

My wingbeats are ragged and uneven. I can barely see. My throat is still a bit clogged with blood, so I hack it up.

"I'm sorry, Fang," Nudge says breathlessly. "It was my fault you got hurt."

I don't say what I want to, which is, Yeah, it is. Or, I told you so. Instead, I spit out the blood and watch it fall until it becomes fuzzy.

Then I say, "It wasn't your fault," and "You're just a kid."

"Let's go home," she says.

"They said it burned down," I say. Honestly, I don't think I can make it all the way back to Colorado. Maybe tomorrow. But not today. I can barely see straight.

"No, I mean the home with the hawks," she says.

**Sorry. Please review. I'm having a bad week. Make me feel better.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm updating now here because my other stories aren't interesting right now. Ha. My dad is listening to Angel on audio book, and it is **_**awkward**_**. He just listened to the part where –SPOILER- Dylan kissed Max on the Arc de Triomphe, and it is AWKWARD. I think I'll get my iPod and listen to some Pandora…ahh…**

**Wait, I said that already.**

**DICLAIMER: JP doesn't need to listen to listen to his own books, 'cause that would be really self-centered.**

When we make it back to the cave, I just about collapse in the opening. Already I can feel my wounds healing themselves, my energy regenerating, my vision restoring. I lay my head down on the rocky cave and breathe shallowly through my nose. My arms flop down my by side. Every part of my body throbs.

Nudge skitters into the opening after me, ducking so that she doesn't hit her head on the opening. She falls to her knees next to me. "Fang!" she yells. "Are you OK?"

"Uh-huh," I mumble, half-asleep. It's not really even words, just two puffs of air with some sound added. I feel like crap, and I just want Nudge to leave me alone. I just need to sleep for about an hour, and then I'll be good to go.

Unfortunately, Nudge doesn't think that way. She puts her hand on my neck, feeling my heartbeat. Then she stands and gets my old backpack, fishing out the first-aid kit in it. She pulls out a bunch of supplies, scattering them all over the floor. Then she stops.

My eyes are closed, so I can't actually see any of this. I wonder what she's doing now.

"Uh, Fang?" she says in a real quiet voice. "I think there's some trouble."

My eyelids flicker. Oh, no. What now?

"Your nose," she says.

Then something clicks. I remember Ari's stone fist breaking it. And then….I must have forgotten. I didn't set it, I was in too much pain to. Now we have to re-break it and let it set and heal again. Crap.

"Uh," I say as a way of expressing this. I don't remember when I was last in this much pain.

"Can you sit up?" she asks. "We need to do it right now. Or everything will heal and we might make it worse."

SupeRN to the rescue.

I slide one arm under me. The other one, my already injured one, flops uselessly on my side. I slowly push myself up, opening my eyes a bit. My vision is already clear, but my eyelashes meet my bangs and stop there. I see Nudge's hands near my face and close my eyes again.

Then her soft fingers are on my nose, her palms resting on my mouth. Her right thumb is pressed on the opposite side of my nose, leveraging herself.

"I'm sorry," she says, and pushes.

There's a loud crack, and suddenly I can't breathe. My face explodes. My hand shoots out and punches her in the stomach.

"Nub!" I yell, and scramble over to her. She picks herself up off the ground. "I'b sorry, I didn't meab to, it was just a reflex reaction."

She smiles. "Yes, well. I didn't have a hammer ready."

My breathing clogs in my throat. I sit cross-legged on the floor, slowly lowering myself down in stages, pausing after every movement to wince and recover. Once I'm seated on the floor, Nudge sits down across from me again, propelling herself closer.

"Okay," she says, and I close my eyes again. Blood is caking my mouth, chin and upper lip, but she puts her hands in the same position, not caring about the gore. "Ready…?"

She pushes again, and my nose grates back into its normal position. At once about 50% of the pain flushes down the toilet. I grin at her, opening my eyes and pushing my hair out of the way.

"Thanks, Nudge."

She shrugs. "Least I could do. Now can we eat?"

"Help yourself," I say, motioning to the backpack. I really don't want to lay back down anymore – the fresh pain woke me up. Stiffly, I stand and limp over to the backpack, pulling off my bloody T-shirt to account for each bruise. Hmm, doesn't actually look that bad.

Nudge looks up from the backpack and gasps.

"What?" She's seen me shirtless a million times before. She's seen me shirtless _and bruised_ a million times before. So what?

"Your side," she says.

I look down again, lifting my arm so I can see it better. I blink and look again.

Where the Eraser's boot had acquainted itself with my side is a huge, mottled purple bruise. And when I say huge, I mean ginourmous. Like the size of my head, maybe bigger. It spreads over my side to my back, and I lift my wing and twist my head, stumbling a little bit as I look backward. It goes at least to my spine.

Nudge's hands are pressed to her mouth. She looks like she's fighting tears. But then I cock my head and press a finger to my crusted lips. She freezes, her head tilted, holding her breath.

I'm not mistaken. There's a distant _chop-chop-chop _ of a helicopter. _Erasers._

We race for the back of the cave, pulling every sign that we were here back with us. Nudge flattens herself against the wall, looking at the dangerously close cave entrance. If the Erasers realized we're there, we're dead. I can't fight at all right now, and Nudge can't take all those Erasers by herself, especially angry, bloodthirsty ones.

I slide down onto the floor, anger and frustration radiating from every pore. For once, it isn't at Max. It's at myself. I hate being helpless. I hate being not able to help Nudge, maybe my only surviving flock member, the supeRN. I mean, if you can't break a nose or two every day, then life's not worth living.

"Fang," Nudge breathes. She slowly lowers herself down to my level, resting her body on her heels.

I move my head a fraction to the left, then two fractions to the right, then a fraction to the center, indicating that she should be quiet. You can pick what kind of fraction it is. My brain's too busy screaming at everything to waste time doing that.

My breath hisses between my teeth: "Sshh," is what it sounds like, and is supposed to be. The chopping noise comes closer to our little hideout, so close that we can see the underbelly of its source, before the copter veers away. The noise recedes into the distance. Nudge makes to get up, but I pull her back down.

"Wait," I breathe. She takes her turn doing the fractions, nodding.

But after twenty minutes of holding myself absolutely still, there's still no sound. So I stand slowly, my joints creaking. Nudge follows me.

"I'm going for some food," I tell her. "I'll be back in a few minutes." I wouldn't be going, but Nudge ate _everything_. I don't know when. But all our food is gone. So we need more.

I unfold my wings and leap into the air. The breeze is soothing against my bloody face, and I hope I can get something to eat in just a few minutes. I don't want to leave Nudge alone for too long, in case the Erasers come back. But I don't know where I can find anything she'll eat. I hope she gets off this vegetarian kick soon.

After a few minutes of flying, I see a small campground below me. Swooping down closer, I spy a tent. There's a young couple barbequing kabobs. The smell manages to make it up to me, and I feel dizzy with hunger. _I need that food._

The couple just put the kabobs on – they're still raw, and haven't even been doused in BBQ sauce. So I loop around to the river, planning on cleaning up my face a bit. And shirt, hopefully. So I head over to a deserted section and hover above the tree level, preparing to land.

Unfortunately, it doesn't quite work that way. Naturally. Because this is me we're talking about.

Over the sound of my wing beats, I hear it. The chopper. I guess they didn't cover this area yet. Anyhow, there wasn't going to be any time to make a practiced landing. I quickly eye the river, judging it to be about twenty feet deep, take a deep breath, and fold my wings.

I drop toward the surface of the river at a hundred miles an hour, my body curled like a cannonball. At the last second, I think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Too late. I hit the water at a hundred miles an hour. Most people would break just about every bone in their body. I just get more bruises.

The water slows my body, and I relax a bit out of my tight ball. My hair floats upward. Hopefully I can still hold my breath for two hundred seconds.

I feel blood floating off of my lower face. I open my eyes. The water is surprisingly clear, and I can see almost everything.

Including the huge snake inches from my face.

My eyes bulge. Bubbles stream from my mouth and nose and I give an almighty yell. I pump my wings and rocket out of the river as fast as I can. Then I remember the copter and freeze.

I guess it's gone, because I can't hear anything. But God, I need to calm down. My heart is pumping crazily, and I hope that the kabobs are done by now, because I'm getting the hell out of here, whether or not they're still raw. I am taking those kabobs and going back to the cave, right now, because I am freezing.

I make a hairpin turn and fly back to the campsite. The man is just putting on the barbeque sauce, which means they're done. Then the woman comes up behind him and puts her arms around his waist. He sets down the bottle on the grill and they start totally making out. I make a face, then realize that this is my chance.

I rocket down to the campsite, my hands outstretched. I snatch a pack of aluminum foil and the kabobs and the bottle of BBQ sauce and zoom away.

When I'm safely back up, I look back down. They're _still_ sucking face! I rip out some aluminum foil and drop the pack down to them. Then I cover the kabobs and stow them in my pocket.

I look back down in time to see the pack hit the ground. They don't even look up, probably thinking that it just fell or something. I laugh out loud and fly away.

When I make it back to the cave, Nudge visibly relaxes. I land silently on the ledge and put my hand in my pocket, pulling out the shiny silver package.

"Can I interest you in a bit of desert rat?" I ask her, shivering. It was cold in the air, and my sopping wet body doesn't help that.

Her expression goes from relieved to horrified in about .02 seconds. "Oh, no!" she exclaims.

I brush some dust from my dripping T-shirt. At least it's not bloody anymore. I pop a piece of the kabob in my mouth. It's even better than it smelled. "Can't get any fresher," I console her.

"Ugh!" Nudge says, paling and turning her back to me. Her back is ramrod straight and her hands are clenched.

"Okay, then," I say, sighing loudly and wringing out my hair. "How about some kabobs? You get the vegetables."

She whips back around. I unfurl the wrapper. The smell of the kabob fills the air, smoky and tender. She regains her color and hurries over to me, plopping down on the dirt. I pass her a kabob with hands shaking from cold.

"_Kabobs!_" she says. "Where did you get them? You didn't have time to go all the way to town. Oh, my gosh, they're still hot."

I push the image of the couple out of my head and give a dry laugh. "Let's just say some campers are going to be a little surprised." I push the meat off some kabobs, sitting down myself, and put them on the foil. Then I make a small pile of smoked veggies next to it.

"Now, _this_ is food," Nudge says, chewing with her eyes closed.

"So I guess we have to decide whether to keep looking for Max or go try to save Angel," I say, dousing about five pieces of beef with the sauce and stuffing them in my mouth. They're still warm, and the heat spreads through my achingly cold body like fingers. It feels amazing.

"But the Erasers said everyone else was dead," says Nudge, her shoulders slumping. "Does that mean Max and Angel too?"

Amazing. Even though that girl is desperately upset, she still manages to eat everything she can get her hands on. I pick up more beef.

"No way to tell," I say calmly, nibbling on another chunk. "The thing is, if Max isn't here, is it because she's dead? How would they have found her? Angel…" I pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Well, we _knew _they had Angel. That's probably all over by now."

I feel like I'm choking on the words, but to make Nudge feel better, I force down the rest of the piece and pick up another one.

She drops her head in her hands. "I can't think about it."

"I know. But what are your –"

Something catches my eye in the distance. I break off my words and squint past the hole. Erasers? No, it's definitely flying. Max? My heart thunders in my chest.

Nudge looks out too, then returns to her food.

The thing that's flying has become two things that are flying. So, not Max. They're getting bigger. One is bigger than the other one, and suddenly I know what they are. I dig in my pocket for the small metal mirror Max had given me in case we got split up. I stretch my arm out to the entrance of the cave and flash the mirror in the last rays of sun.

I stop, flash, stop, flash.

The things veer off course and head for us. Nudge looks alarmed. Then her mouth drops open as Iggy and Gazzy skid to a stop in front of the cave, Iggy almost bashing his forehead in on the ledge before Gazzy pulls him down.

"You aren't _dead_," she informs them, shocked.

"No. You aren't dead either," Iggy says, sounding cranky. "How about just 'hello'?"

Nudge throws her arms around him.

"Hi, guys," says Gazzy. He brushes off his filthy sweater. "We couldn't stay home – there's Erasers all over the mountain. So we decided to come here. Anyone got a problem with that?"

**Just to let you guys know, this is the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life. I want at least 10 reviews before I post chapter 12. You've done it before. Do it again. I know you can. **

**If you can't tell, I made up most of the chapter. Let me know how you like it.**


	12. Chapter 12

**An: we just got back from Cumberland Island on a class camping trip! There was no hot water, beds, decent drinking water, privacy, clean clothing, and I got a second degree sunburn on my shoulders - in other words, we had a blast. Sorry I took so long to update-I was OOT. OUT OF TOWN. HAHAHA I LOVE CAPS LOCK. **

**!**

"So where's Max?" Iggy asks, after everything has settled down a bit.

"I don't know," Nudge blabs, getting geared up. "I mean, the last time we saw her, was, like, two days ago. She went down to do something and she didn't come back. Me and Fang went to look for her but we didn't see her. So we just got some food instead. And then - then some other stuff happened. And then you came."

Nudge falters and fails in the middle of her sentence, glancing at me worriedly. I think back to the exploding feeling of the Erasers beating me into a pulp and hold back a shiver. Iggy raises his head in my direction, his sightless eyes trained on me, and I tap his hand, indicating that I'll tell him later. Gazzy picks up handfuls of sand and watches it slide between his fingertips with glazed eyes.

I cross my arms and lean against the wall. The sky outside is the same color as a robin egg. It almost distracts me from Nudge's blabber.

"Ari beat up Fang," she announces to the boys. "And also Fang got shot in the arm. And some other stuff. I was hoping you could look at it, Ig."

I glare at her. "I'm fine," I say. Iggy, however, doesn't look convinced.

"Let me see it, Fang," he insists, so I sigh and tug off my T-shirt. I walk over to him and sit cross-legged on the floor, bringing his long, white fingers to my chest. They stand out.

His fingers skim sideways over my stomach, and then they find the bruise. He traces the outline with his finger and closes his eyes. "This is huge," he informs me.

Gazzy and Nudge are sitting stock still, their eyes glued to my chest. Nudge's hands are covering her mouth, and the Gasman just looks really scared. So I tell Iggy, "I know. But it doesn't hurt at all."2

"It will," he tells me grimly. "Let me see your arm."

I sigh again and unwrap the bandage. The stick clatters to the floor. But I'm looking at the bandage - discharge has stained the white gauze a dark yellow, and the smell is terrible. Ig's back gets stiffer and stiffer as the bandage falls away, so I shift my body position so that the Gasman and Nudge can't see it.

Finally the yellowish bandage is off and lying on the floor. My arm is disgusting. The gashes are filled with pus and raised above my arm, and the edges of the bullet hole are dark red and also raised. The whole area is sticky with pus and blood.

"I'm not asking you to touch this," I tell him right off the bat.

He doesn't listen. Already his fingers are feeling my bicep, so I move them down to my forearm. They skitter and slide over the stickiness like white spiders and come to rest on the hole. The skin over it looks stretched and pulled and shiny.

For a moment no one says anything. Iggy rests his hand on my arm, feeling the gashes with his palm. I wince.

"What happened?" he asks me, barely breathing the words so that the younger kids won't hear.

"Back at the house," I breathe back. "I got shot. By an Eraser. Who decided to just finish me off."

Iggy grunts. His hands shift over, trying to find the ends of the wounds. One is up near my hand, and the other is about three inches shorter than that. They both start at my elbow.

"Okay," Iggy says finally. He pulls the first-aid kit toward him and opens it, finding the bottle of disinfectant and stack of cotton balls with ease. I watch him uneasily as he pours the disinfectant on the little cotton circles. Then he dabs at one of the gashes with it.

It feels like he just doused my arm in gasoline and then held a match to it. With the sound of my arm igniting in my ears, I jerk away from him. A little moan escapes through my lips.

"Sorry!" Iggy cries. He grabs my arm back, and I relax and try to ignore the fact that he's lighting my arm in fire or the fact that my arm is sizzling. Sizzling! It's so disgusting I can't watch. I turn my head around to make sure that Nudge and Gazzy can't see what's happening.

Finally the burning stops. Iggy wraps the arm in clean white gauze. But before he can finish, more - stuff - has leaked through.

I spring to my feet.

"I can't take this anymore," I tell the crew. "I'm going for a fly."

I sprang off the ledge, unfolding my huge wings and catching the wind like a current. The hawks shriek as I approach them in welcome and move over so I can glide with them.

I glance down at the rest of them as we wheel around. Nudge and the Gasman are shading their eyes to look up at me, and Iggy's face is also angled upward. He says something to Nudge and she nods happily, then says something else to him and leaps off the cliff. Gazzy and Iggy follow.

Nudge soars up to us and joins the formation. Iggy and Gazzy flap clumsily up to us as well, so different from Nudge and the hawks that we've been studying. Gazzy watches a hawk for a minute, then straightens out his wings; Iggy, sensing the change, tenses and then copies him.

We wheel around in huge loops. I cradle my arm to my chest, carefully tucking in the loose edge so it doesn't come unraveled. Then movement at the corner of my eye has me glancing down.

"Max," I whisper, and just like that, I dive.

About one foot into the dive, I reconsider and pull up sharply. Max flaps toward us, grinning hugely. Gazzy and Nudge have these huge, toothy smiles plastered on their faces, and Iggy boasts an extremely confused expression. I catch Max's eye and jerk my head in the direction of our cave; then, without waiting for her response, do the hairpin wheel and zoom into the cave long before the rest of them.

I'm shaking. Half of me wants to catch her up in my arms and hold her tightly. The other half, the larger half, wants to grab her by the hair and shake her for making me and Nudge worry about her. She's two days late, for God's sake. I just want to scream.

The rest of them land in a heap and scurry to the back of the cave, which is getting a bit crowded. Nudge squeals some more and gives Mad a huge hug, the kind that would crack ribs on a normal person. Max grins and wheezes and strokes Nudge's back.

"Max!" Nudge says. "We were so worried!"

A tiny crease appears between Max's eyebrows. I can see her fighting an urge to look up at me, and I have a stone-cold expression waiting for her.

"I didn't know what happened to you, and we didn't know what to do, and Fang said we were going to eat rats, and-"

"Okay, okay. Everything's okay," Max interrupts. She looks up at me and mouths, _Rats?_

Unfortunately for me, a tiny grin crosses my face. I curse inwardly and pull it back in for a good beating. Dammit, she saw.

Then she turns to Ig and Gaz and I prepare for a bomb. "What are _you two _doing here?" she demands of them angrily. "Why didn't you stay home?" You can hear the accusatory _Like I told you to_ after it.

"We couldn't," Gazzy begins eagerly. Innocently. Uh-oh. "There were Erasers all over the mountain. We'd be dog meat by now."

Wait a second. Why are they wearing dark clothes? Iggy in black is almost as rare as me in any color besides black. (I'm going to tell you later about that.) As I'm thinking this, Iggy adjusts his black baseball cap – make that MY black baseball cap. I snatch it off his head and he grins sheepishly at me.

"When did they start hunting for you?" Max presses. "Right after we left?"

"Noo," Gazzy says, drawing it out. Now he looks nervous. He looks to Iggy for help, but Iggy just brushes dirt of his dark pants. MY dark pants! God, Iggy stole all of my clothes! I wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing my underwear too. But I'm _not_ checking.

"What?" Max narrows her eyes. "When did they start coming after you?"

Although now that I think about it, Iggy's wearing _his _shoes. But wait a second. We only have one pair each. I glance at my tall boots, and then at Iggy's scruffy white sneakers. Yeah, he'd steal mine if I wasn't wearing them. That dirty little - !

"Was it – was it after the oil-slick Hummer crash?" Gaz asks Iggy nervously. Iggy rubs his chin, rolling his eyes upward. Max looks shocked.

Hang on. That's my favorite sweater! Oh, that boy is gonna PAY. His light gray wings are folded behind it, not tucked in. But you know what? I am NOT admitting that it looks good on him. BECAUSE IT DOESN'T.

"Or maybe it was more – after the bomb," the Gasman says softly.

"Yeah, I think it was after the bomb," Iggy agrees. "That definitely seemed to tick them off."

Wait a second. BOMB? Whoa. I think I checked out of this conversation a LONG time ago. Last thing I remember was –

"Bomb?" Max screeches. "_Bomb? _You guys set off a _bomb? _Didn't that tell the Erasers exactly where you were? You should have stayed hidden!"

Yeah, Gazzy, I think. You told me that you weren't going to blow up the house. Seriously, dude, can I trust anything anyone says anymore?

"They already knew where we were," Gazzy protests. "They'd seen all of us – they knew we were in the area."

"It was a matter of time," Iggy pipes up.

Max puts her hands on her hips and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She closes it again quickly, her teeth clicking bewilderedly. After an extremely awkward pause, she says, "Well, I'm glad you're safe."

I think I'm cracking a rib from trying not to laugh.

She hugs Gazzy, bending over, and then hugs Iggy, stretching up to wrap her arms around his neck. His long, pale arms, encased in MY sweater, wrap around her midsection and squeeze quickly before disengaging gently. I stiffen.

Then she folds Nudge into her arms. Nudge promptly starts sobbing, and Max strokes her hair and comforts her. Gazzy runs to me and throws his arms around me. I bend over.

"I thought you agreed _not_ to blow up the house, G-man," I murmur into his ear, and I feel him smile. Then he lets go and I straighten back up in time to see Max turn for me.

Instantly my back goes ramrod straight. I cannot allow myself to do what I really want to – i.e., melt into her arms. I'm very aware that the whole flock is watching.

Max looks me up and down, an unsure expression on her face. Sizing me up. Then, hesitantly, she steps toward me and puts her arms around my waist, her palms resting on the small of my back. Her head rests on my chest.

I clench my jaw and my right hand. My left hand hurts too much. Max holds me for a second too long, then steps back and looks me square in the eyes. Her eyes are the color of milk chocolate.

Then she breaks contact and looks away, leaving me feeling dizzy. She holds out her fist, and the others stack on top of her. Everyone looks at me, and I jam my fist into the pile. We tap and throw our hands into the air.

"To Angel!" Max screams.

"To Angel!" we scream back.

"To Angel! To Angel! To Angel!" the cliffs scream back over and over.

Then, we jump from the edge and soar toward the School.

**THERE! Finally done.**

**Me: Hey, Fang, you're that obsessed with clothes?**

…

**Me: …Fang?**

…

**Review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I'm so sorry. I feel really bad. I've just been so caught up in the last few weeks of school that I haven't had much of a chance to write. Then, when I did get a chance, I lost my book! So I couldn't write at all. But now here I am. So enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Me No Own.**

**(P.S. Any Bleach watchers out there, doesn't Fang remind you kind of of a cross between Uryuu and Chad?)**

Once we've left the hawk's cave far behind, Max starts talking. But instead of tuning her out, I listen eagerly. Surprisingly, I missed her voice a lot more in the last three days than I thought I had.

"Okay. How about some quick reports?" Max calls out to everyone. I tense. No, Nudge, please –

"I tried to find my mom," Nudge blurts.

Max's eyes widen dramatically. I breathe a sigh of relief. "Whaaat?" Max exclaims. "Your _mom?"_

Nudge shrugs, her caramel-colored wings sweeping up and down with the movement. "I made Fang go down to Tipisco while we were waiting for you. We found the right address. I saw a woman, and she was my kind of color, but I wasn't sure. Then the Erasers, including that dirtbag Ari, showed up, so we kicked butt and left."

More like they kicked butt. I wince and touch my nose.

Max is silent, thinking. "So, you didn't talk to her? Umm –" she struggles for a second "- your mom?"

"No." Nudge doesn't meet Max's eyes. But her gaze flicks to me.

"Did she look nice?" Max asks. I growl a little under my breath. _Drop it, Max!_

"I'll tell you about it later," Nudge says offhandedly. I tuck the end of the bandage back into the wrapping, because it keeps flying free. _Come on, Max! Let it go! _Luckily, she does. Unluckily, she decides to start a new conversation.

She glares at Ig and the Gasman. "We know what _you've_ been up to," she accuses. Gazzy just smiles blithely.

"I think I have a tracer chip implanted in me," Max says conversationally. "I'm not positive, but it showed up on an X-ray, and that's what it looked like."

An X-ray? Tracer chip? My jaw drops. My heart actually stops beating for a second, and my wings freeze. I drop about two feet before I regain control and snap my mouth shut furiously.

_"You had an X-ray?"_ I hiss.

She nods. "Details later. If I do have this chip, it explains all the Erasers everywhere - but not why it's taken them four years to track them down. And I don't know if any of you have one," she adds, answering the unspoken question.

Okay. So she goes missing and shows up 50 hours after she's supposed to – ne explanations, no excuses, no nothing. Then she drops this bomb on us and expects us to wait for details later?

"M-max?" the Gasman stammers after a moment of tense silence. "Do you think there's still a chance?" His whole body is shaking.

"I don't know. I hope so," Max answers, an unguarded expression on her face. "I know I've delayed us by two days. I'm really sorry about that. I just did what I felt I had to do. But we've come this far - there's no turning back. We're going after Angel - no matter what."

As soon as Max looks away, the Gasman slips his soft hand into mine, his wings beating in sync just below mine, small enough that they can fit between our bodies. I squeeze and pretend not to notice the tear trickling down his cheek.

After the last hawk has peeled away from out loose formation after about two hours of flying west-northwest, I notice Max staring thoughtfully after them. "We learned some stuff from the hawks," I say, gesturing. "Some banking moves, how they communicate, stuff like that."

"They're really cool," Nudge adds, sidling closer to Max. "They, like, use the tips of their feathers to help aim them, and we tried it, and it was amazing. A little thing like that makes such a difference. Like, I practically didn't even know I could move those feathers." **(A/N: Mary Sue! Mary Sue!) **

"Could you teach us what you learned?" Max asks curiously.

"Yeah, sure," I tell her. Then I fly closer. "Only if you give me a granola bar."

Max laughs and tosses the granola bars out to everyone. I struggle with the wrapper. My fingers are shaking, and my arm throbs with every movement. If it had been my left hand that had been cut, I don't know what I would have done. Luckily, Iggy notices my struggles and rips the wrapper open for me. I stuff the plastic in my back pocket and take a huge bite.

OWWW. My jaw hurts so bad when I bite down on the granola, I feel like i just got my spacers in or something. I chew slowly, not letting a single sound escape through my lips.

Max gives me five minutes after everyone else has finished to ask me why I've only eaten half of my bar. "Fang?" she asks, dropping back a bit with me. "You OK?"

"Yeah," I say, spewing chewed up granola all over her face. She makes an "eew" expression and wipes it off. I chew slowly and then swallow. "Just dandy."

"You're not," she says, studying me. A barest hint of color rises to my cheeks under her scrutiny. "You got in a fight, Fang. Who did it?"

"What are you talking about?" I scoff. "I am Fang, the Great and Terrible. None dare approach me."

She chuckles humorlessly. It lasts about one second before her expression changes to extreme concentration and she slips her hand past my wing to yank up my T-shirt. Her eyes fall on the huge, mottled purple bruise.

I yank away from her. "Hey!" I shout. "That was uncalled for!" I want to swear so bad, but a tiny part of my brain is still reeling. She saw...!

"Fang-"

"Go get Nudge to show you some moves," I say brusquely, still panting a little. "I'm sure she can help." I wave my granola bar in her face.

"Fang..."

I shoot to the head of the formation before she can finish.

We fly over desert, mountains, rivers, plains, and more desert. My empty stomach is growling loudly and I feel like it's filled with a hundred heavy rocks.

I can hear the flock laughing and shouting behind me, and even the occasional shriek from Nudge, but I don't look back. My eyes are narrowed against the buffeting wind, and I'm searching for our markers. My hands are shaking like mad now from lack of sugar. Finally we see something and dive down as one.

We land in the middle of some woods. Crouching down low, we make sure no one saw us before we start discussing stuff.

"Okay, we need food," Max says, stating the obvious. "And a street map wouldn't be the worst idea in the world."

I roll my shoulders and stretch. "The School isn't going to show up on any street map," I inform her.

"I know. But we know pretty much where it is - there'll be a blank space on the map, but it would still help us to find roads to get there," she informs me.

"Touché," I mutter. "Well, let's get going then."

I turn and trudge off in the general direction of the little strip mall I saw from the air. Fifteen minutes of hiking brings us up to the back of it. It's pretty small - a dollar store, dry cleaner, and beauty salon make up the building part, and a gas station and freestanding ATM loom up out of the parking lot.

"Need to get your hair done?" I mutter, and a minute later, Max's elbow connects with my bruise. I wheeze.

"Well, what now?" Gaz asks.

"Let me think," Max says, glancing up at the mall. After a minute, she says reluctantly, "Okay. Looks like we'll have to-"

She's interrupted by a horrific squealing of tires on the cracked and grimy pavement. We melt back into the shadows at the side of the building. A fancy car pulls up next to the ATM, throbbing with music.

The window rolls down, and suddenly, we're also throbbing with the music. Iggy winces and covers his ears. A greasy looking man leans out of the window, his cell phone pressed so tightly to his ear that the fingers holding it there have turned white.

"Shut up, you idiot!" he yells into the phone. "If you hadn't lost your card, I wouldn't have needed cash!"

Iggy perks up and uncovers his ears. The man wedges his phone between his chin and his shoulder and punches in his code, then waits. "That's what I get for trusting you with anything!" he snaps. "You can't handle getting dressed in the morning!"

His phone drops from his shoulder onto the pavement, and the back cracks open, the battery bouncing out onto the pavement. He swears and climbs out of the truck, scrambling to get the pieces back together. Then he grabs the money from the slot, clambers back into the car, and starts counting.

"Jerk," Nudge mutters.

A huge black pickup roars into the lot, barely missing the fender of the gray car. The rear tires spin and spit gravel at the gray car, hitting it in a miniature hailstorm.

We back up even more. ERASERS?

"He's going to go ballistic," I whisper.

The greasy man leans out of his car, his eyes bugged, face red, veins popping. He screams about ten different swear words at the black truck, which in turn responds by rolling down the window. We all take a little breath.

"What'd you say, dipstick?" Ari asks with a creepy little grin.

**Review please. I want 10. Thanks ever so much.**

**By the way, D-G-R, thank you sooo much. Hope you find this satisfactory. I guess it worked!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So. Here is the long awaited chapter. There's a reason it took so long, and the reason is this:**

**I asked for 10 reviews on chapter 13. Seven people did what I asked and reviewed chapter 13. Here's why I asked for ten reviews on chapter 13 and not this chapter: well, now you can't review this one, can you? If you reviewed the author's note instead of the actual chapter, now you can't review this. So I don't expect any reviews for this one. However, if you didn't review it already, it'd be nice if you could review it anyway.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride.**

Max shushes everyone while Gaz starts whimpering. The guy in the car's eyes bug, and he floors the accelerator. His car soars forward, spraying the pavement with dirt and gravel. Ari gives an insane cackle and his car jumps after the jerk. Five half-seconds later, the sound is gone.

"He gets around," I murmur. Underneath my calm mask, my emotions are roiling. Every time I see Ari, I get all tingly and cold, like I have a fever. My whole body aches, and my fists long to be connected to his jaw. Or nose. Or cheek. Or gut. Really anywhere is fine, actually.

"Was Ari's hair _green?"_ Max asks, her brow knitting.

"Yep," says Nudge. An awkward silence falls over us as we all realize something at the same time. Our heads slowly turn toward each other and then swivel to the ATM, like some sort of black-and-white show.

The ATM is beeping quietly. A human wouldn't be able to hear it from this distance. But we wouldn't be here if we were human. I tap Iggy's hand twice and we slink across the pavement. I fill Iggy in on the way, poor blind boy. He has absolutely no idea what's going on.

Once we get to the ATM, we stand up and look at it idiotically. I think Nudge even blinked a few times in bewilderment. Max's hand hovers over the screen, so I decide to suggest something to her. Best thing I've said all day, really.

"Get cash."

"You think?" Max sneers. But her hand doesn't move. The Gasman turns his big blue eyes on her and spurts one word:

"Hurry."

After that little wisdom nugget, Max finally pushes the withdrawal button, stabbing it with her middle finger. (Yeah, she uses her middle finger to point and press things. She also uses it to flick me off.)

**P**LEASE ENTER THE AMOUNT YOU WISH TO WITHDRAW.

She pauses. "Sixty dollars?" The finger hovers. I snort.

"He was a total jerk," I inform her. I gesture to the machine. "Take him for all he's got!"

She grins. "You are _evil._ I like that." The one comment leaves me feeling like a balloon as the middle finger stabs its way through the transaction. Just to make things clear, I use my index finger to point and press, like a normal person. However, I reserve the middle one for pointing at Max and pressing Iggy.

Nudge does a little dance around the island that the ATM is parked on. "Oh, yeah, oh, yeah," she shouts, waving her arms in the air. "We're ri-ich, we're gonna buy a ca-ar, oh, yeah!"

Max frowns at the screen after a moment. I rip my eyes away from Nudge, giving my head a little shake, and look at the screen that she's focusing on so intently.

"**P**LEASE ENTER YOUR PIN NUMBER TO COMPLETE THE TRANSACTION," I read out loud, and watch Nudge out of the corner of my eye as her arms wilt slowly and her happy movements slow to a stop.

"Oh, no," Max groans next to me. "Did anyone see it?"

"I _heard_ it," Iggy says slowly. We pounce.

"I think if we put in the wrong code more than twice it shuts down and swallows the card," I say thoughtfully, trying to sound smart. I saw that on TV, I think. When I was 13.

"Can you do it?" Max asks Iggy sincerely. Behind her, I crack up silently. Iggy hears me and his blind eyes flick toward me before focusing on Max's...chest. I cringe.

He closes his eyes and then turns to the keyboard, placing his fingers on the keypad and spreading them out so that he can feel which pad is which, fingering the Braille dots. I make a note of that as he says, "Um, I'll try..."

"It's okay, Ig," I say reassuringly. "Just give it your best shot."

Max scowls.

Iggy presses five buttons hesitantly, his pianist fingers spidering over the keys. I inhale and hold it...

**A**CCESS DENIED. **P**LEASE CHECK YOUR PIN AND TRY AGAIN.

"Shit," I murmur under my breath.

"Try again," Max urges tensely. "You've got the best ears on the planet."

...I hate to say it, but Max might actually be right about that one.

Iggy takes a deep breath. His fingers spread out over the keys again, stroking each one before pushing it down surely. The look of intense concentration melts off his face and he steps away. Even if he got it right, that was the last chance he had to do it. According to something I may or may not have seen on TV when I was 13.

The silence is a lead ball in my belly for about five half-seconds. (Like how I keep working that in there?) Then the ATM whirrs, and bills begin spewing out of it.

"Yes!" I punch the air. "Freaks rule."

"Grab it and go!" Max orders, and Nudge shoves the bills in her pocket. We begin to sprint away when the ATM beeps behind us. We pause.

**T**HANK YOU FOR YOUR BUSINESS. **P**LEASE TAKE YOUR CARD.

"Okay, thank _you,"_ Max says, grabbing the card. And then we book it.

Once we're safely in the woods behind the station, I take the money from Nudge and begin combing through it. "Too bad we couldn't get more," I muse.

"Let's go back to the gas station and buy a bunch of food," Nudge says longingly. But Max shakes her head, her straw-colored hair sweeping in front of her face.

"No," she sighs, "People there may have already seen us. We've got to get out of here."

I shove the money into my pocket and glance into the parking lot. A red van pulls up. A young man opens the door, climbs out, and punches in a time card. Then he disappears inside.

I glance at Max, and see that she's thinking the same thing as I am. Then her eyebrows crease.

"Money from a jerk is one thing," she says. "A car from just a guy is something else."

"We'd only need to borrow it for a few hours," I convince her. "We could leave some money as a rental fee."

Gazzy perks up. "Are we stealing that car?" he asks eagerly. "Let's."

Max frowns. "No. We're sort of _thinking _about _borrowing_ it." She closes her eyes, appearing to have some sort of internal battle. I lean on a tree trunk and fold my arms, looking down at her.

"That's like Grand Theft Auto," Gazzy interjects. "I saw it on TV. It's popular with kids."

"Better borrow it soon," Iggy advises, cocking his head. "I hear a chopper."

Nudge starts, looking scared. She wilts into my side.

Max opens her eyes. "Okay," she says, marching across the parking lot. We follow hesitantly after her, looking around constantly. Iggy pulls out his paperclips and unlocks the handle lock, climbing into the front and pushing his foot down on the gas. I climb into the passenger seat as Max lifts the hood, obscuring her and the other two from our vision.

Iggy looks tense, gripping the wheel with his pale fingers. "I don't like this," he confides. "We're wasting too much time."

I nod and play with the hem of my T-shirt. After a moment, I look up. "What's with Max, do you think?" I ask him.

"What do you mean?"

"Ever since she got back from wherever she went, she's sure been acting strange." I twist the shirt in my fingers. "You know?"

He frowns, his foot still pinning the accelerator to the floor. "Yeah, kind of," he says. "Almost like she's –"

The engine roars, cutting him off. Max slams down the hood, chasing Iggy out of the driver's seat, and piles everyone into the back. She climbs in herself and looks at me for a moment. I stare back unblinkingly until she looks over at the controls.

Then I realize something.

"Oh, my God," I say. "None of us have ever driven before."

**Ok. There you go. Happy?**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So I'm going away for a week w/o internet. But here is Chapter 15.**

**Diclaismer: I bet JP has one of those phones that gets internet anywhere.**

There's a long, long moment of silence. Max looks extremely surprised for a moment.

"I've seen people drive on TV," she says. "How hard can it be?"

She glances down at the controls, taking a moment to figure out how to shift the stick around. Finally she edges it into D.

"Okay, guys," she says louder. "Here goes nothing."

She presses the gas. The engine revs loudly. But the car doesn't move. Max presses harder. The engine coughs.

"What's happening?" she says.

"It doesn't like us," Iggy volunteers from the backseat.

"Shut up," Max snarls. Iggy raises his hands in surrender.

"Fang?" Max mutters, as Gazzy breaks out into "Eat It" by Weird Al.

"Um... Isn't there a parking brake or something?" I say, glancing down by her feet. I sound a lot smarter than I actually am: I wouldn't know a parking brake if it danced naked in front of me, singing.

"Just eat it," Gazzy howls in the backseat, reminding us all of how hungry we are. Nudge crawls up to the front seat and finds the parking brake within two minutes, releasing it quickly.

"I'm a genius," she sings, clambering over my head and back to her seat. Max stares after her.

"How did you know that?" she asks, astonished.

Nudge shrugs. "I used to read Jeb's old car magazines all the time," she says briefly. Gazzy continues his song in the background.

"Okay, okay, we're doing okay," Max says a few minutes later, when we finally get on the road. She swerves around a corner, and the car goes up on two wheels. It comes crashing back down, and my head, already brushing the cab roof, hits the top of the car with an almighty bang. I gingerly rub it and look back to see Iggy checking his own head. I look at Max, and she meets my gaze.

"What?"

"Could you take it easy on the hairpin turns?" I ask cautiously.

"I'm getting better," she says defensively. "I just had to practice."

"I didn't know a van could go up on two wheels like that," Nudge says, breathing heavily. "For so _long."_

"I don't want to barf in a borrowed car," Gaz announces.

Max presses her lips together and looks at the road. I smirk. "We need to turn east in about five hundred yards," she mutters, sticking her head out the window for a moment.

She's such a soccer mom.

Half a mile later, she pulls over and looks at the side of the road. There is no road there. "Where the heck is the _road?"_ she yells. "There's no freaking _road_ there!"

"You're going by your own directional senses," I say, because I'm a genius. That was the smartest thing I've said all day, besides "Get cash" earlier.

"And there can't be roads everywhere you _feel_ like there should be a road," Iggy points out.

Max grinds her teeth. She pulls a tight U turn, muttering to herself. I turn back and hold up my hand, Iggy slapping it after only a small, well, nudge from Nudge. Max's eyes narrow in anger and frustration at the slapping sound, but she keeps her eyes firmly on the road.

After another turn that tells all of us that we're going in the wrong direction, Max starts yelling. She pulls over and starts beating the crap out of the steering wheel. Then she hunches over and clutches her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut.

"It's okay, Max," Gazzy frets.

"Is she hitting the steering wheel?" Iggy asks incredulously. Nudge glares at him.

"Look," I say, pointing. Max raises her head weakly. "There's a town up ahead. Let's go there, get something to eat, and find an actual map. 'Cause this wandering thing ain't workin'."

Max shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. Then she spins the wheel and the car crunches away.

When we get to the town, Max sits up straight and adopts a serious expression. I crack a smile. I'd be better off driving - Iggy and I are both so tall that we could pass for adults - but oh well. Max pulls into a fast food restaurant, backing carefully into a spot well away from everyone else. Almost immediately, the three in the back scramble out of their seats and spill out onto the pavement, stretching. "We're alive!" the Gasman yells.

_"Wait!"_ Max shouts from her seats. "Look, we're really close to the School," she says, dropping her voice down. "This might _feel_ like the middle of nowhere, but really, Erasers could be anywhere and any_one_. You know that. So we have to be careful."

The whole lecture flies right over Nudge's head, apparently, because the next words out of her mouth are: "We have to eat."

Max sighs. "I know, Nudge," she says. "We're going to. I'm just saying be really careful. Be on guard, be ready to run, okay? _Anybody we see could be an Eraser."_

Everyone nods. Max flips down the visor and shrieks.

I look up at the mirror first, afraid that she's scared of her reflection. But then I follow her eyes to her lap, where a key ring has just fallen. I pick it up and shake it. Max stares blankly.

"Well, that'll simplify things," I say.

Max climbs shakily out of her seat and we walk across the parking lot, Nudge and Gazzy chattering in the back. The second we open the door, Iggy stops dead, raising his head like a dog and sniffing. Max makes her way past him, and I put his hand on my shoulder to guide him.

"I want my room to smell just like this," Ig announces. I not-so-gently push him on.

"That would be an improvement," Max agrees, reading the menu. Somebody jostles me in line and I sidestep, almost tripping over Iggy's huge feet. I glare at the little kid who tripped me and he bursts into tears.

Glad to know I've still got it in me.

Nudge informs Max of her new vegetarianism while I step up and order three double cheeseburgers, a chocolate shake, a soda, three apple pies, and three fries.

"Feeding a crowd?" the woman behind the counter asks me.

"Yes, ma'am," I say. Max's glare burns my back.

Iggy steps up next, just saying, "Uh, I'll get the same thing as Fang." The woman gives me as strange look at the name, but types in the same order. I wait for Iggy to get his food and, balancing my tray on one hand, put the other hand on his shoulder and guide him to the back. One glance behind me shows the woman's horrified face as she slowly realizes that Iggy is blind.

I slide into the booth and Iggy sits down next to me. We both dig in, taking up the entire side because we're so big. As Iggy chomps down on his burger and I slurp up the chocolate shake, I think out loud.

"What's up with Max, you think?"

Iggy shrugs. "I dunno," he said around a mouthful of food. "She seemed kind of..." He trails off and takes another huge bite, polishing off his first burger. When he comes up for air, he adds, "All I know is that I could live off the smell in this place. You know?"

I groan. "You're such a boy."

"It's just hormones, don't worry about it." He grins. "Wait, are you suggesting that you're not a boy?"

"No, I-"

I'm saved by the arrival of Max, the Gasman, and Nudge. They sit down opposite us, and Iggy shoots me a grin, which I ignore. Everyone starts eating, and _someone's_ giving little whimpers. Wonder who?

Iggy catches my eye and we both begin eating as fast as we can. He has a head start - he's already eaten all three of his burgers, but I've eaten my fries AND pies. He has so much food in his mouth he can barely breathe. But I can chew faster, ha ha.

I'm in the middle of eating something - I've lost track of what it is - when something makes all the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I glance up and see that I've been so busy trying to beat Iggy at our eating contest that I didn't notice that everyone that was in here had disappeared. Instead, all the tables around us have been replaced by really good-looking guys in business suits.

Right at this moment, all the fat and cholesterol that's been newly acquired in this food decides to clog up my veins. My blood starts pumping sluggishly in my veins, but harder. I look down at my chest and see my heart beating.

I watch Max for a little while, continuing to stuff my face with as much food as I possibly can. Her neck and shoulders slowly tense up without her noticing, until she looks at me. Then she glances around, realizing.

She looks back at me and nods before muttering to Nudge and Gaz. I tap Iggy's hand. No one shows that they noticed or heard her.

Then, Nudge bounds over Iggy's head with Gazzy right on her tail. They crash through the fire exit. Max leaps over us as well, and then Iggy and I follow her. Everyone scrambles outside and in the van, while Max jams in the key. We reverse, Max giving a little cry when an Eraser gets plowed under the wheels. We shriek over the curb and through some bushes before careening out into traffic, a tidal wave of honks following. Max soars into a gas station, cutting through a light, and then soars back into traffic.

"Max!" Nudge screams. Max swerves violently to avoid a semitrailer which had loomed out if nowhere. Our van screeches against the metal trailer and the rearview mirror is torn off.

"Well, that'll be an extra thousand dollars back at the rental," I mutter to myself. No one hears me.

"It's so bulky!" Max yells in frustration as she zips around another corner and the van goes up on two wheels again. The flock leans violently the other way and we teeter back down.

"It's a _van,"_ I remind her.

Max races out of town. Slowly the city turns into suburbia. But the van is too slow.

"I'm gonna stop!" Max screams. "Jump out and get into the air as fast as you can!"

Affirmative screams in reply. Max glances in the remaining mirror and then grits her teeth, deciding not to stop. Instead, she swings left into a random field of corn. She zigzags crazily back and forth while I try to decide if the corn field had an ulterior motive for being here besides our immediate convenience. I decide that it doesn't.

A road appears in front of us, and we swerve out onto it. As soon as we right ourselves, Max revs the motor again-

Just as a huge black car jumps out in front of us.

We hit it at sixty miles an hour.

Airbags slam into my chest, knocking every drop of oxygen out of my lungs and then some. My seat belt almost slices through my neck. My injured arm slams into the door, making me bite my cheek to prevent myself from howling in pain.

"Report," Max calls weakly, her hand over her nose. Blood squirts from between her fingers.

"Okay here," I reassure her, rubbing my neck. I think my seatbelt tried to decapitate me.

I head a peeling sound from behind me. "Okay here," Nudge says, pulling her forehead from the back of my seat.

"It's just my nose," Max reassures her. "Head wounds always bleed a lot. Look, it's already stopping." It's not. If anything, it's getting worse.

"I feel like, like pudding," Iggy moaned. "Pudding with nerve endings. Pudding in great pain."

"I feel sick," the Gasman whispers.

CRASH!

The windows smash all around us. Everyone covers their heads. Hairy hands reach eerily through the windows and grab us. There are no opportunities to get any fighting back in - Max and I are hauled out and thrown to the ground.

"Run!" Max screams. An Eraser socks her in the face. I look up to see Iggy and Gazzy spread their wings and soar upwards. Some Erasers point guns up and take a couple shots, but they miss. Iggy and Gazzy get away.

Nudge gets yanked out if the van and thuds to the ground next to Max. Max's arms go straight around her. Someone kicks Max in the ribs. My gaze travels up the fancy boot to cargo pants, a tight under armor shirt, and a half-mutated face.

"Tag. You're it," Ari cackles. The Erasers laugh as well, a creepy chorus of backup singers. They dance around like we're at some sort of ritual campfire native sacrifice.

"It's almost like you don't _want_ to go back to the School," Ari croons. We're outnumbered three to five, and each of us has a heavy boot pressed against his chest. I want to buck them off, but Ari will kill Max at a second's notice. She meets my eyes, and then Nudge's. Then we all glance upward, seeing a helicopter. The Erasers start jumping up and down and waving their arms.

"What a touching scene," Ari spits. "We're all going home. Just like the old times."

**You know the drill. Review!**

**vvvvvv**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I'm sorry it took so long. I tried to write a good chapter, though, so tell me what you think.**

**Disclaimer: JP probably doesn't have any cousins, and if he does, he has never, ever, ever had to spend a week locked inside with them while they sing the chorus of "Rumor Has It" by Adele over and over and over and over.**

A sickly sweet cloth is pushed over our three mouths. I lash out violently, not caring anymore. Self-preservation is kicking in. But with every second, my movements become weaker and weaker until the black wave hooks me and pulls me under.

**!**

I wake up crammed in a crate. Obviously they don't like me, because my limbs are folded up in all directions, trying to fit in a cage that's smaller than Iggy's appetite. For a minute, I struggle, trying to figure out where my arms and legs are. Then I orient myself, squishing into the corner with my arms around my knees, my feet bent in a way that I was pretty sure you needed girl hips to do.

Nudge is next to me, and Max is across from me. Both of them are out cold. And next to Max is...

"Fang?"

My spirits soar. I smile over at the bruised, dirty little angel curled up in her dog crate, which I swear to God is bigger than mine. She smiles back. Her lips are cracked and bleeding, and one eye is blackened. He curls are lank and dirty. But she still manages to be happy and alive.

That's when I look at my arm. It's healed. The bandage and the stick are gone. Only three gruesome white scars are left behind. I shudder. In a way, I'm glad they did that. That arm was bad. I mean, really, really bad. Amputatably bad.

I close my eyes and fall inward. It's a technique I invented when we were here four years ago - kind of similar to the thing Westley does in The Princess Bride. Except I don't think about Buttercup. (What the hell kind of a name is Buttercup, anyway?) I don't think about Max. I don't think about anything. I just fall into a pitch black pool, sliding in like a knife into butter, leaving nothing but ripples behind. Not even a splash; just ripples, sliding on and on towards the nothingness that is me.

I sink into the pool slowly. The blackness is like liquid ebony; heavier than water, but lighter than melted chocolate, like the kind that Iggy makes for random occasions (i.e., when Max is craving it.) My path leaves a few white bubbles trailing back up to the surface. A light is coming from somewhere above me, I don't know where, because it's hitting the ripples that I made on the surface, which still wash outward, just as strong as they were before.

I fall for a little while. The surface grows fainter and fainter until I'm surrounded by only blackness. And yet, I can still see. I don't know why. It's not like there's anything to see. Only blackness.

It's funny. I'm surprised I can still do this. I haven't done it since I was - what, ten? But it still comes just as easily to me as it did then. I guess there's a certain amount of fear factor involved. I don't know the science of it. Probably because -

Wait. What's that? I swim toward it. It's a pinprick of light in the distance, and as I get closer, it takes on a shape. Rectangular, like a door. The light spears the blackness, and I squint. It gets bigger and bigger until I can see something through it. A silhouette? I suppose it is. It's a very familiar shape - tall, thin. But still blurry. I get even closer. Now I can make out some more details - thinning hair, circular glasses, caterpillar mustache. A long white coat and shiny brown shoes.

Holy -

It's Jeb.

But he's dead!

Does this mean I'm dead too?

He smiles and steps through the door. The door to what? The afterlife? I open my mouth to ask him, still swimming closer, but he walks past me, still smiling at nothing.

I panic. Jeb's not allowed in here! Not even his spirit! I swim towards him to tell him to get out, but he ignores me.

As I get closer to the light, my limbs get stiff and sore. My body gets cold. I can make out some square shapes...

I open my eyes.

Immediately the soreness worsens. The coldness digs in, hooking into every cell in my body. The square shapes get more defined. I can see Angel and Nudge, hunched over in their crates, their eyes widened in fear at something. Angel's eyes are rimmed in red, and tears are flowing down her face.

Max is leaned back in shock. Her hands are propped behind her, and her knees are drawn up, like she's just fallen back.

In front of her is Jeb.

NO!

This isn't happening, I think dazedly. There's no way that this is happening. I refuse to believe it. Jeb is not a traitor.

But he is.

I can literally hear the flick in my brain. Like a light switch turning on, everything that made Jeb my father flashes in front of my eyes. How he brought us away from this stinking cesspool. How he would laugh with us. He taught us to read. He taught us to fly. He taught Iggy to cook. He actually worked a lot more with Iggy than the rest of us, because Iggy had the hardest time adjusting. Jeb taught us how to shower. He built up our stamina for eating, so that we would be used to eating more than just a little bit every day - in the beginning, we threw up all the time. He held us when we had nightmares. He did it all. And this was the man that was standing in front of Max now, daring to show his stinking face, daring to even talk to Max.

Her face is white. Jeb murmurs to her, and she presses her lips together. He opens her crate and allows her to climb out, which she does. Then she disappears through the door.

Before she leaves, she puts two fingers together behind her back.

It was our symbol for "Wait."

Jeb had taught it to us.

The door shuts behind them with a click. It echoes through my brain feverishly. I fold my wings around me as best as I can and rest my head against them, not falling inside myself. I need to make sure Max comes back alive.

Something grips my wing. I open my eyes to see Nudge's shaking brown hand against the black, and I shift as best I can and lower my wing so that I can see her horror-struck face.

"That...was..." she says, her lips trembling. I put my olive hand over hers, and she flips her hand over and squeezes mine.

Okay, then.

Angel looks terrified. I get so mad when I think that anyone could be cruel enough to torture a six year old like that. She was only two when we left here, so she probably didn't remember it that well. And it wasn't like we exactly talked about it. But I guess now she has her own memories.

"Don't tell Max," Angel whispers, "but they showed me these...eyeball things. They were in a jar. Just floating around in there. And they were, like, really good vision. And they wanted to put them on Iggy. So he could see again. You know?"

"I think Iggy knew about those," I whisper back. "He told me. Some Erasers had some or something. Max probably knows about them too."

Angel squishes herself against the corner of the crate. Her wings fold around her, the feathers spreading to try to warm herself up. Nudge clutches my wing harder.

"Why was Jeb here?" she whispers.

Angel stifles another sob.

"I don't -" I cut myself off when the door opens and Max walks through. Her face is still white; shocked and livid. Angel's eyes widen at the sight of her, and she presses her hand to her mouth. What?

Jeb follows her. He opens the door for Max and she crawls in, adjusting quickly to the cramped space. Latching it behind her, he bends over to look her in the eye. "Remember," he whispers. "Trust me. That's all I ask. Just trust me. Listen to your gut."

He pivots on his shiny brown shoes and squeaks away over the linoleum. His coat flaps behind him like a flag of surrender, and Max swallows, narrowing her chocolate-brown eyes after him.

"You okay?" Angel whispers anxiously, peering at Max through the bars of her cage.

Max nods, her mouth tight. She meets Nudge's eyes for a moment, and then catches mine and locks there.

"I'm okay. Everyone hang tough, all right?"

I stare at her. Wait just one moment. What the HELL is going on? How can Max be so calm about this? Wait- is she-?

No. Max isn't a traitor too. There has to be a reason she's not saying anything to us. I mean, besides the obvious cameras and mikes she's so worried about. But why? Did Jeb tell her not to say anything about their chat? And if so, why is she doing what he says? It's not matching up to me.

Hours pass. Every bone in my body is aching. I can't believe my conditions. I haven't moved in God knows how long. My ankles are so sore; I think that if I so much as shift my position, I'll rip off a foot. My butt is killing me. It's like a fifteen hour car ride with no pit stops, except it never occurs to me to have to go to the bathroom...

After a bit, a whitecoat wheels in another crate. Inside is a...well, I can't really tell what it is. Its skin is covered in these growths that turn my stomach, and the rest of the skin is pink, like it's covered in a horrible rash - so bad, I can't even tell if the kid is white or black, male or female. It's slumped over in the crate, its rear in the air, hands pointing backwards. The crate gets parked next to Max; on the side that I can't see. She closes her eyes and turns away, her hands on her face.

A bit later, Angel starts crying. Max looks horrified, glancing into the crate. I guess the thing is dead.

I try to shift my position. Now all my limbs feel like they will be removed violently if I try to move them. Every bone in my body aches and screams for me to spread out and move some more. It's so bad, I can't even fall into myself, which at this point I would do gladly.

Finally, finally, the doors open. A bunch of people come in, and scattered among the white coats are a few much taller Erasers. The one in front is pushing a flatbed cart. All of them look happy and pleased about something. My heart sinks.

"I count only four," one man complains, sounding superior.

"Two bought it," says Ari. I see him for the first time, and my hands clench into fists. I still haven't paid him back for what he did to me back in Tipisco, and the day couldn't come fast enough. "Back in Colorado. This is what's left." He slams his fancy Italian boot into Max's crate. "Hi, Max. Miss me?" he says snidely.

"Is the Director quite sure about this?" asks a woman. "It seems a shame - there's so much more we could learn from them."

"Yes," says someone else, a man, I think. "It's just too risky. Given how uncooperative the little one has been."

Max gives Angel a thumbs up. Angel grins back weakly. She's too busy looking to see the fingers that grab her crate and swing it onto the cart. Her eyes widen. Then her crate slams onto the metal, and her bruised cheek hits the side. She winces. Nudge cries out briefly, then puts a hand over her mouth.

Then Ari grabs hold of Max's crate, dropping it next to Angel. I think the crate bounces a few times, and Max nearly bites through her lip. Ari grins through the bars, leering at her. I tense, my hands tightening even more. "Strong, like bull," he brags to Max.

"Your dad must be so proud," Max retorts quickly, and he punches her crate so hard it almost slides off the cart.

"Easy," a whitecoat murmurs, and Ari snarls murderously at them.

Another Eraser grabs me and loads me on top of Max. Nudge gets loaded on top of Angel, and we're off.

We rattle away into the hallway. It's so bright and perfect that I have to shield my eyes. The smell is enough to make my stomach churn like I'm standing in a garbage dump. I close my eyes and try to ignore the pain.

Something pokes me in the back. I open my eyes and see an Eraser looking at me.

"This one's pretty tough," it says. "Not a peep so far. I want to hear him _scream_."

I close my eyes again. Two seconds later, another Eraser pokes my arm.

"How does that feel, freak?" he grins. I stare at the long yellow nail that's pressing into my arm. If he pushes any harder he'll break the skin. I hope he doesn't. I don't want to get a toxic disease.

Ari joins them. "I see my daddy healed you all better," he grins. "Maybe you should learn a lesson from that. Don't mess with me. Or I'm gonna mess with you."

I can't help it. My head whips around and I snarl at him, my upper lip lifting. It's the first time I've shown anything here, and at first I get the reaction I want. They all jump in surprise, and everything is silent for a split second. Then every single Eraser in the room that saw it bursts out laughing. It's loud, raucous laughter that burns my ears.

"Ah!" Ari shrieks. "Ah, I'm so scared!" He doubles over with laughter.

I'm frozen. I have no idea what to do now.

"Little tight in there?" another Eraser hisses. Then all of a sudden they're all poking at me at once, and there's absolutely no way to avoid them. I feel like I'm caught in one of those closets with all the nails, except the cage is so small that I can't do anything. I madly twist away from the fingers, which only start poking harder.

"You can't run!" one of them shrieks.

"Let's see your FANGS!" Ari yells, and all of them crack up again. Someone kicks Max's crate, hard, making mine wobble dangerously. I grip the bottom, and Max grabs my fingers, squeezing briefly before letting go. I wrap my wings around me, clutching my legs even tighter to my chest so that they cover my whole body, except my head.

It doesn't get better. The Erasers jab and twist. They even pull out a few of my feathers, and then dance around madly with the black feathers held high above their heads. They even stick them through the bars and tickle my face and neck with them.

Finally, something happens. We take a sharp left and go through some doors, and we're outside. I look up at the sky. It's so clear and blue, not a single cloud in sight. I shake a little; it's so close, and yet so far...

Then I look at where we are. My heart starts pumping at about ten thousand times a minute. This is the yard in back of the School. The yard where the Erasers were trained to kill anything that got in their way. The yard where they brought down their prey.

I had been wondering why they were laughing so hard.

**So the little technique Fang does? I like to think of that as him swimming inside his own eyes. Get it? :P R&R!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hey. I just wanted to know if you knew…**

**A MESSAGE FROM OUR SPONSORS**

**This story I brought to you by Dozen-Glass-Roses, a beta whose work is like the early morning when it's still cool in the summer and the grass sparkles with dew. Let's everyone give a hand to Miss Rose.**

**(canned applause)**

**Disclaimer: JP's beta is not as awesome as mine.**

Just like that, everything in the yard focuses like I've adjusted the lens on a camera. I don't tense, because if I move, some part of my body is going to fall off. Maybe multiple parts. But my eyes follow Ari as he stalks across the ground to Max, who is deep in thought. Her head snaps upward as he leans over her, bracing himself with one hand on my cage. I resist the urge to reach out and snap his hairy, bony finger. The other hand goes over to Max's cage and he sticks his fingers through, wiggling them.

"Got your running shoes on, piggy?" he asks, sneering. "Feeling like a little exercise? Wanna race? Wanna play food fight?" He puts his face right up close to hers, baring his long, slimy, yellow fangs. "You're the food!"

Max's bruised face splits into an awful grin. I think _Uh oh_. Then she leans over and sinks her teeth into his hand. Ari's eyes widen, and he sucks in a breath. Then he howls like the dog he is, and the hand on my cage flies off and wraps around his other wrist, tugging. He whips his arms around, shaking the cage violently. My crate wobbles dangerously, sending pain shooting through every fiber of my being. My eyes widen and my hands brace against the sides, not that that does anything at all.

Below me, Max is really taking it - her whole body shaking and her head getting snapped around. The other whitecoats are yelling at her, and Ari is swinging his Italian boot into her crate, sending shock waves up to me. Then, Max let's go. Ari's hand comes flying out of the crate, and his next kick shoots Max's crate out from underneath mine.

My whole body plummets. My stomach gets left up in the air, and as the crate slams into the ground, I bite my tongue so hard I almost pierce it. When it hits, every single muscle, every cell, every fiber screams in agony. I close my eyes for a second, and when I open them, Max's crate is upside down next to Angel's. She unlatches Angel's crate with shaking fingers.

"Go! Go! Don't argue!" she yells, and Angel, looking determined, edges the door open and squeezes out, clambering up on top of Nudge's crate, out of reach. Nudge reaches up and squeezes her fingers.

Next second, Ari slams down sideways into Max's crate. The whole thing goes careening away, tumbling over the dirt. I press myself against the crate, so intent on somehow, _somehow_, getting to her before Ari does, that I don't see it. But I sure hear it. It's a kind of _fwoosh_ing noise, almost like the tide, or could it be…?

My head whips up to see a hundred wings beating. I see a storm cloud of hawks circling above us, blocking out the sun, whipping up a huge, violent wind. I stare for a second before I see the other thing - two figures standing over on the roof; one crouching, one standing tall and heroically.

I grin to myself. _They probably practiced that_, I think. Then a shriek makes me look down. Max's crate has a gaping hole in it, and Ari's covering his head, yelling, as he gets dive-bombed by hawks. Max is tearing toward us, her face wild and determined. Two whitecoats are right on her heels.

"Angel!" she yells. "Get out of here!"

She slows for a second, elbowing one of the whitecoats into the other. They fall to the ground. Then she jumps up, and in midair, grabs Angel by the waist, and throws her into the air before hitting the ground. Angel's pure white wings unfurl and she shakily rises into the air.

Then she comes for me, her hands fumbling on my latch. The door swings open, and my knees tumble out. I'd like to take some time slowly getting to my feet, in stages, like I have arthritis or something, but time is something I don't have. _I'll be sure to add that to the grocery list,_ I think, and spring out of the crate. For a second, I don't think I'll be able to actually move, I'm hurting so bad. I almost fall. Then I regain my balance. I grab the nearest whitecoat and pin him to the cart. His eyes go wide with terror, and I pull back and punch him with everything I have. His eyes go back in his head, and he sags in my hand. I drop him, and he crumples to the ground.

Then I look around. Revenge is my next step, and I see Ari fending off the hawks. Perfect. I sprint over to him, and the hawks flutter off of him. Ari begins to get up, but I smash the top of his head down, and he curls up into a crouch. I kick the side of his body, covering his skin with blood from my shoes. Whether it's mine or his or someone else's, I can't tell. Max is shouting stuff behind me, but I don't look back. Instead, I punch his face again, hearing a satisfying _crack_. Then I grab my crate and shove it over his head. Ari is even bigger than me; and the door barely fits over his shoulders. They're going to have to cut it off of him.

I hear a shriek. Then Max yells, "Fang! Iggy! Gazzy! Let's go! Go, go, go!"

I stick my fingers through the bars of Ari's cage and give him a good, hard poke. Then I snarl at him, pointing at my teeth. He flinches. Then I spring on top of his crate, and, using my momentum, unfurl my wings and jump into the air.

Oh, man. My wings creak and groan, but I'm relieved and happy. I thought I'd never fly again. I keep my face smooth and blank as Iggy and Gazzy silently call the hawks away from their last few bites and scratches. They swerve into formation, swerving upward as easily as if they were one body. Max does a head count, and a smile spreads across her face without her realizing.

"Fang! Get Angel!" she calls, and I see Angel, struggling to stay aloft. Gazzy flies over to help me with her, supporting her left while I take her right.

"I got her," I tell him, and lift Angel into my arms. Gazzy stays flying near her, every so often reaching out to touch her blond curls like they're a precious, rare gold.

It's then that I hear it.

"Max!"

I swoop to a halt. Looking down, I see Max maybe ten feet below me, her wide wings blocking whoever it is. I edge to the side, and see Jeb, his shoulder torn and bloody, staring up at Max with an expression I can't place. I wonder what expression he would make if I was tearing out his stone cold heart through his throat.

"Maximum! Max! _Please!_ This was all a test! Don't you get it? You were_safe_ here! This was only a _test!_ You have to trust me - I'm the only one you _can_ trust! Please! Come back - let me explain!"

Max was looking down at him, her hair partially covering her face, so that I couldn't see her expression. But she was silent for about ten seconds, and the whole world held its breath. Then she shook her head slowly, turning her head to the side and closing her eyes.

"I don't think so," she says tiredly.

Then she pushes down hard, and soars up to us. Nudge gives Jeb a cheeky little wave as she follows Max, and the rest of us turn and fly away, into the wild blue yonder.

Angel reaches up to touch my cheek. Her hand is soft, warm, like a baby's. It feels like heaven. All of the tension flows out of me with that little touch: because Angel's here, she's safe, everyone's okay. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I know that everything is going to be all right.

**!**

"You have to do _what?"_

Max nods unhappily. "But don't tell any of the others yet. Okay?"

I look away from her, back at the flock. Iggy's carrying Angel, and all four of them are chatting happily, a little distance behind us.

I look back at Max. She's looking at me uncertainly.

"Saving the world," I say finally.

It's her turn to look away. She watches my wings whoosh up and down, her eyes unreadable.

"That's what Jeb says," she says, still not looking at me. "He told me that that's why I was created."

"And the rest of us?"

Max is silent, then: "I don't know."

We're quiet all the way to Lake Mead and the shallow cave. The hawks are there, lining the caves, like a homecoming committee. We all land in the opening, and Angel collapses, Max next to her. I turn and face the canyon, the orange and brown and yellow rock contrasting heavily with the blue sky.

"I thought I would never see you again," Angel says from behind me, and I catch her voice, memorize it, analyze it, hold it close to me. "They did all kinds of stuff to me, Max. Terrible. Terrible. Terrible."

"I would _never_ quit trying to get you back," Max says, her voice choked with emotion. "There's no way I would ever let them keep you. They would have to kill me first."

"They almost did," says Angel. Her voice cracks, and there's a rustling as Max pulls her in close and holds her.

"This is how it should be forever," Iggy says unexpectedly. "All of us together."

I feel Max's gaze on my back, and turn. She's got Angel curled into her chest, her hand splayed on Angel's back. She holds out her other hand in a fist, and looks me square in the eye. I allow a tiny muscle in my mouth to slip past formation and curve upward as I make my way over and place my hand over hers. It's warm and smooth. I squeeze a slight bit. Then my hand is covered by four others, and Max taps the stack.

"I'm just...so thankful," she says, and Nudge looks at her, surprised. I look right into her eyes. She swallows and starts over, now looking at the ground. Her eyes dart up occasionally. "I mean, this made me realize how much we all need one another. I need_all_ of you. I love you all. But five of us, or three of us, or two of us isn't _us._ Us is all six."

I look at my sneakers. Was it just my imagination, or did she look at me when she said "I love you all"? Iggy taps his fingers on his leg. But Nudge throws her arms around Max.

"I love you too, Max! I love all of us too," she says into Max's shoulder.

"Yeah, me too," Gazzy says. "I don't care if we have our house, or a cliff ledge, or a cardboard box. Home is wherever we all are, together."

I stay looking at my shoes. If there's one thing I can't handle, it's emotions. But I take this scene, and lock it away in my heart, so that I can open it up later, and hold it, and play it over and over again, and then lock it safe back up inside me.

Soon, the flock drops off. I stand guard outside the cliff until it begins raining. The flock wakes and stands outside in the rain, washing it all away. Blood. Dirt. Grime. The smell of the School, and the despicable memories. The rain pours down on our heads, dripping through our hair, falling on our souls and erasing everything until we start to get cold. One by one, the flock heads inside, until it's just the older three standing on the ledge.

Max shivers, and I stand behind her and rub her shoulders. She looks back at me, and I look out over her head. She leans back on me the tiniest bit, but her touch is comforting.

"Jeb knows our house," she says quietly.

I nod. "Can't ever go back. Guess we need a new home."

"Yes," she says, closing her eyes. She leans even more into me. The rain drips off her eyelashes. I look over at Iggy, illuminated from behind by the stars, his white baggy shirt plastered to his chest, the water shining on his face like liquid silver.

"East," says Max. Her mouth is open slightly, and water drips into it. Her face shines like I've never seen it before; her hair is wet and dark, flat. Behind her eyelids, her eyes are still. "We'll go east."

**So I have a question. I was wondering…would people like it if I responded to reviews? I mean, some people do, so…**

**And….that's it. R&R?**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Heh heh…I know I disappeared for a bit…please don't kill me? As most of you who have subscribed to author alert will know, I've been a bit caught up in the Bleach-dom. No seriously. I started two stories and published a few one shots, some of which are Maximum Ride, that you all should check out of you're into that kind of thing. Plus, my beta went on a vacation without telling me, not that I blame her because the fantastical work she does totally makes up for the amount of time it takes her to do it.**

**Okay. And now, we will go to the story. **

**Disclaimer: JP owns. My initials aren't even JP. They're MS, like the disease. T-T**

The taste of IHOP's delicious Nutella-and-banana pancakes is still comforting in my mouth even an hour after we've left. Nutella and banana doesn't sound like a good combination, does it? Well, it is. It's actually very delicious.

The air is a bit colder up here, a few thousand feet up. That is not as surprising as Nutella-and-banana pancakes. Actually, it might be. I don't know how educated people's minds work – I mean, here I am, about as far from educated as you can get. Unfortunately, there's not a whole lot I can do about that. I mean, I'm kind of busy trying to stay alive – I don't exactly have time to sit down and open up a textbook. (Of course, I'm writing this now, and hoping you'll forget these words, seeing as I know now that this is going to come back and bit me in the ass, excuse my French. (See? I'm even speaking French now! Who knew, right?) Anyway, I'm getting a bit off track here. I think all the Nutella jam-packed into that 'cake went straight to my brain. I'll try to do better. Sorry about this.)

Where was I? Oh yeah. The air _is_ colder here, though. But the sun is a lot warmer. And I'm kind of confused, since I was pretty sure that the warmth of the sun was directly proportional to the warmth of the air…? Just goes to show just how much _I_ know.

"God!" Nudge shouts, soaring into Max's slipstream to catch a small break. "It's just so, so…you know?"

I do know. I know perfectly well. And although I have to work a little harder for oxygen, it's pretty awesome up here. It's awesome in a way that no one who has both feet firmly on the ground will ever know.

"Yeah," Max says, grinning. "I know."

The smile that splits her face, then? It's like gold. Precious. I'll admit I've been hard on Max the last few days. We were all so stressed about Angel that I just kind of…aw, I don't know. Basically, now I'm…back to normal, I guess.

"I mean, the air, and we're up so high, and no one's after us –"_definitely a bonus _"-and we hit IHOP for breakfast." Mm. Nutella. "I mean, God, we're just up here, and it's so cool, and down below us kids are stuck in school or, like, cleaning their rooms. I used to hate cleaning my room."

Max sighs.

Then she makes a weird kind of choking noise. Every nerve in my body freezes in panic as she gags.

"_Max?"_Nudge screams.

Max chokes again, grabbing for her head. She folds like a paper plane and plummets to the ground. My body is frozen for a second.

"Fang? _Fang!" _Nudge screams. I unfreeze and dive after Max, racing to catch her. I fumble with her wings, moving them aside to catch her with one hand under her back and the other under her knees. She's panting, her forehead beaded with sweat and dirt. Her eyes are screwed shut in agony. Her fingers are fisted in her hairline, and her muscles are clenching and unclenching frantically. She moans and gasps. I try really hard to get my mind out of the gutter, but it's not easy. Apparently Iggy's thinking the same thing as I am, because he snickers when I bring her up to where the rest are waiting anxiously.

"Max? Max, are you okay?" Angel yells anxiously.

"Sh. Just be quiet, okay? I think she's in a lot of pain." _No _shit_, Sherlock. _My heart is racing and there's a huge lump in my throat. _Is she okay? What happened just now? Does she have a disease? Did someone do something to her when we were passed out cold at the school? Is she going to start growing horns?_

I keep my gaze on her face as we fly on. Slowly her breathing grows steadier and her eyes relax a bit. But when I say _slowly_, you can be assured that I mean _slowly. _It's at least an hour before one eye opens a tiny slit to look at mine. Each minute is a century of torture, watching her face for some sign of what the hell just happened. My own breathing sounds worse than hers, and sweat trickles into my eye, causing it to twitch irritatingly.

But finally, one brown eye opens a tiny slit and meets mine. Her mouth parts a little, and her sweet breath fans over my face.

"Man, you weigh a freaking _ton_," I tell her. It's true. My arms are aching. "What have you been eating, _rocks?"_

"Why?" she croaks with a small smile, and then – get ready for the corniest line to ever leave Miss Maximum Ride's mouth – says, "Is your head missing some?"

My mouth moves upward of its own volition, and all the worry and fear flows out of me. My Max is okay. That's all that matters.

…And I thought Max was corny…

"Max, are you okay?" Nudge says, horrified. Her face is at least ten shades lighter than it used to be.

"Uh-huh," Max mutters, looking like she has to struggle for each breath. The shortage of oxygen up here probably isn't helping either. "Find a place to land," she begs me. Her arm, the one closer to me, curls around my back so that she's partially supporting herself. That basically just means that her weight is now pushing down on my hipbone instead of my arms, but it's cool. "Please."

We fly for about another hour before we spy a cozy little clearing. I land as gently as I can, trying not to jar her or her head (which she has just told us is the source of the pain). Even so, as my feet touch the ground, she winces, and clamps her teeth together. Her grip tightens on the small of my back. Her arm hasn't even been there for that long and already the spot where she's resting it is soaked through with her sweat.

I set her down, leaning her against a tree. She stretches out gratefully. I peel my sticky shirt away from my body and flap it at her so that she can smell.

"You like that?" I ask her. "It's the smell of a _manly man._" I say the last two words in a weird accent. Iggy cracks up behind me. I pull the shirt over my head and drop it over her head, ignoring her shriek of outrage as she's enveloped in the wonderful smell of a boy who's gone quite a few days without showering. Then I go help them build a fire.

"Yo, watch it!" Max shouts, detangling herself from my T-shirt. "Clear more of that brush away – we don't want the whole forest to burn down."

"Guess you're feeling like your old self," I mutter.

Nudge unearths some food in the backpack about twenty minutes later. Gazzy and Iggy had bought it and then forgotten it was there. But when she announces its presence joyfully, Max stands and wobbles over to the fire to eat. I half-rise, ready to help her in case she stumbles, but she waves me away impatiently. I accept my stiff and now utterly disgusting shirt back from her and consider dropping it in the fire. At the last minute I realize that this is probably a bad idea. Instead, I take my jacket back from Iggy and slip that on instead over my bare chest. The T-shirt is going in the backpack until I can wash it. Because if I'm honest with you? The last thing I want to do is put that thing on.

"This isn't half bad," Gazzy says, peeling roasted bologna off a stick. He puts his whole hand in his mouth, sucking off every last juice.

"Don't do bananas," Nudge says, tossing a warm, mushy goop off into the bushes.

You know what would be really great right now? A pancake. With Nutella. And bananas.

"S'mores," Max sings, making one on her knee. I wonder where Iggy and Gazzy got that. She opens her mouth and takes a bite, closing her eyes in bliss. I resist taking it from her.

"This is nice," Gazzy says happily, piercing another circle of bologna on a stick and holding it out over the flames. "It's like summer camp."

_Like you know what summer camp is like._ "Yeah, Camp Bummer," I mutter. "For wayward mutants." Man, this sucks. I miss our house. I miss our life. I miss my pancakes.

Max nudges my leg with her foot. "It's better than that. This is cool." Her eyes warn me not to be a jerk. My subconscious notices that her eyes are the same color as the melted chocolate in her s'more. Her deceased s'more.

I shoot her a look and turn my bacon over the fire. **(A/N: WOOT WOOT!) **

Max slides down off her makeshift seat (read: rotting, probably termite-infested log) and stretches out on the ground, her head propped up on her sweatshirt. Her arm curls unconsciously around my leg as she puts her hands behind her head. Her eyes glaze over. Then they close. A piece of hair is resting on her nose, and it puffs up every time she exhales. It's cute.

Angel crawls over. "Max, wake up," she says, tapping Max's knee.

"I'm awake." Max pulls herself up, her arm slithering away from my jeans. Angel climbs into Max's lap, and Max leans against the log. She leans back in Max's arms, and Max strokes her hair. "What's up, Angel?"

Angel's wide blue eyes look up into Max's. "I've got a secret. From when I was at the School. It's about us. Where we came from?"

**A/N: Hey. I would do more, but I was kind of hoping for more than two reviews on the last chapter, you know? I'm trying to chill out and relax a little bit on that, but, still….aarg. It's hard. But whatever. What I'm saying is, I wasn't motivated to write this in the slightest. I just kind of cranked it out. Standard issue. So could you, please, please, **_**please**_** review? It really makes my day. And you know what they say: Reviews=Love=Inspiration=Quicker Updates! XD**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hi.**

**Okay, I really can't say how sorry I am just with words. Honestly, I feel horrible. I know it's been a month and a half. I actually wrote this chapter about two weeks ago and then it got deleted somehow. I was really proud of it and liked it far better than I liked this version. I just feel terrible, so please forgive me. (And excuse the pun.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride.**

"What do you mean, sweetie?" Max asks calmly.

Angel twists the hem of her shirt in her fingers, her eyes darting around on the ground. "I heard stuff," she says, almost too quietly for me to hear. I lean in a little and pretend I'm totally _not_ listening.

Max holds her closer. "Stuff people said or stuff people _thought?"_ she asks, fighting to control the anxious tremor in her voice.

"Stuff people thought," Angel says. She meets Max's eyes. "No, I want to tell you now."

Huh? Oh, she must have been reading Max's mind. Geez, I hate when they do that stuff.

"I mean, it's just stuff I sort of heard. I didn't understand all of it - chunks were missing. And it was from a couple different people."

"From Jeb?"

"No. I didn't get anything from him at all," Angel says, meeting Max's eyes again. "Nothing. It was like he was dead. They kept doing tests, you know, and they were all thinking about me, about the flock, like, wondering where you were and if you would try to come and get me."

"Which we _did,"_ Max can't help but brag.

"Yeah. Anyway, I found out that another place has information on us - like where we came from."

Max straightens a little. "Whaat?" she says. "Like our life span? Or where they got our DNA?"

I glance around at the flock, who is suddenly awake. I continue to feign disinterest as Angel nods.

"Well, spill it!" Iggy demands, and Max wastes a glare.

"They have files on us," Angel continues. "Like, the main files. They're in New York at a place called the Institute."

"The Institute?" Max asks, confused. "In New York City or Upstate New York?"

"I don't know," Angel says. "I _think_ it was called the Institute. The Living Institute…or something."

I meet Max's eyes now. We _have_ to go. She nods, her eyes hard.

"There's more," Angel adds, and presses her face into Max's shoulder. I hold back a groan - here come the waterworks. "You know how we always talk about our parents but didn't really know if we were made in test tubes?"

Max nods.

"I saw my name in Jeb's old files," Nudge says stubbornly. "I really did."

"I know, Nudge. Listen to Angel for a minute."

"Nudge is right," Angel blurts suddenly, and like Coke when you add Mentos to it, her secret comes exploding out. "We did have parents - real parents. We weren't made in test tubes. We were born, like real babies. We were born from human mothers."

Okay, this is going to sound really jerky, but at that moment all I could think was, _What, as opposed to fake babies?_

"You've sat on this since yesterday?" Iggy demands. "What's the matter with you? Just because you're the youngest doesn't mean you have to be the dumbest."

Max sucks in a breath. "Look, let's all calm down and let Angel talk. Can you tell us anything you heard?" she asks Angel gently, smoothing the hair off of her forehead.

"I only got bits and pieces," she says, squirming a little under the pressure. "I'm sorry, everybody. I've just felt yucky…and it all makes me really, really sad too. I don't want to cry again. Awhh, I'm crying again."

I hear Iggy huff impatiently. Wait, Angel's crying? No! No tears! Please, no tears. I can't handle the tears.

It's okay, Angel," I say calmly, trying to make her stop. Please, _don't cry_… "We understand. You're safe now, here with us."

Nudge fidgets. Max gathers Gaz into her side as well as Angel, bracing herself.

"It sounded like we came from different places, different hospitals. But they got us after we were born. We weren't test tube babies." She sniffs.

What? "How did they get us?" I ask, keeping my face blank. "And how did they get the bird genes into us?"

"I didn't really understand," Angel murmurs. "It sounded like - like they got the genes into us _before_ we were born somehow." She rubs her forehead as if she can somehow bring the memory forward. "With a test? An amino…ammo…"

"Amniocentesis?" Max asks, losing a little more control in her voice. Amniocentesis? Huh?

"Yeah," Angel says. "That's it. And somehow they got the genes into us with it."

"It's okay, just keep going," Max says, seeing our confusion.

"So we got born, and the doctors gave us to the School. I heard - I heard they told Nudge's mom and dad that she had died. But she hadn't."

Nudge starts crying too. "I _did_ have a mom and dad!" she says. "I _did!"_

God! Why is everyone crying? Okay, yeah, so your parents gave you up/lost you. You don't need to cry. _Aren't _we_ a family now?_

"And Iggy's mom –"

Iggy tenses.

"Died," Angel chokes out. "She died when he was born."

Iggy looks so upset I kind of feel bad for a second, but then I realize: why is he even sad? So his mom's dead. So what? Not so sound harsh, but he never knew her. A few seconds ago Angel might as well have been telling him that his test tube shattered.

"What about us?" Gaz asks. "How could they get both of us, two years apart?"

Angel wipes her eyes. "Our parents gave us to the School _themselves," _she says, and starts sobbing again. I pick up a stick to distract myself from the pain on Gaz's face and begin to strip off the bark, watching the brown bits curl to the ground.

"What?" Gaz gasps.

"They _wanted_ to help the School," Angel says, squeezing out the words between sobs. "They _let_ them put the bird genes in us. And gave us away for money."

Okay, that was harsh. Gaz bursts into tears and if I was the kind of guy who gathered people into my side I would grab that kid and give him a big hug. But I'm not that kind of guy.

"Did you hear anything about me? Or Max?" _Poker face, Fang. Keep your eyes on the stick. _

"Your mom thought you died, like Nudge," Angel says shakily. "She was a teenager. They don't know who your dad was. But your mom thought you died."

The stick in my hand snaps and my heartbeat thuds to a stop.

She was a teenager?

Unknown father?

Whaat?

Dimly, I hear Angel tell Max that she didn't hear anything about her, but it's like I'm listening through a wall.

_Your mom thought you died, like Nudge. _

_They don't know who your dad was. _

The stick pieces drop from my limp fingers and fall to the ground. Belatedly, I realize that I'm a total hypocrite, reacting like this when I'd turned up my nose at the others. But those words swam through my head, over and over.

25 words.

Jesus Christ.

_She was a teenager. _

"Fang."

_They don't know who your dad was. _

"Fang!"

_Your mom thought you died_.

"FANG!"

"Huh?" I startle, emitting a very un-manly noise. If Iggy's brain had been working properly at that moment, he would have laughed his skinny white ass off.

"Hey, you okay?" Max asks, peering at me.

_She was a teenager. _

"Oh, um, yeah," I say, and turn away.

"I can't believe it," Gaz mutters. "They gave us away. They must be sick. Sick jerks. I'm _glad_ I don't know them."

"I'm sorry, Gazzy," Max says, ruffling his hair.

_They don't know who your dad was. _

I close my eyes, lacing my fingers together and squeezing my palms.

A teenager. What happened there? How - well, I know how she got pregnant - I don't live under a rock - but still, I wonder. Did she choose to - you know -? Or was it forced on her? Was she in her right mind? Or was she drunk? High?

So many depressing questions.

"Angel? It's late, sweetie. Why don't you try to get some sleep? Actually, we could all use an early night."

_They told your mom you died. _

How did she react? Did she care at all about me? Or did she just go all like, "Oh well, who cares, back to the joint"?

"I think I'm going to sleep too," Nudge says wearily. "I just want this day to end."

Okay, this is bad. Nudge just said a sentence with under ten jillion words.

We d o our stack thing, and then the kids go and lay down, I guess. I start thinking again.

_They don't know who your dad was. _

Did _she_ know who he was? Was he someone she loved? Or was he just a guy who was unwilling to bring his own condom? Was it her first time or was he just the next guy in line?

Max starts to bank the fire, so I go over to assist her like the macho man I am.

"So maybe you were hatched after all," I say, referencing to an old joke.

This earns a dry laugh. "Maybe. Maybe they found me in a cabbage patch."

"In a way, you're lucky," I say, not meeting her eyes; and then it all comes spilling out. "Not knowing is better. It leaves all the possibilities open. Your story could be worse, but it could also be a hell of a lot better." I rock back on my heels and extend my wings to warms them. "A teenager, jeez. She was probably a crack addict or something." I shake my head slowly.

"Maybe not," Max says in that placating tone she has. "Maybe she was a nice kid who just made a mistake. At least she wanted to actually wait the nine months and have you. Maybe she would have kept you or let a really nice family adopt you."

A mistake, my ass. More like she couldn't afford an abortion. "On one hand, we have a mythical nice family who wants to adopt me. On the other, we have a gang of insane scientists desperate to do genetic experiments on innocent children. Guess which hand I get dealt?"

I lay down next to Gaz and cover my face with my arm. A sudden lump appears in my throat.

Suddenly, I'm exhausted. Half of me wants to put my arm around Gaz and pretend it was a mistake when I wake up in the morning, but I decide not to. Instead, I curl up into a ball and let the blissful blackness pull me under.

**Again, I'm sorry this took so long. **

**Iggy V: Her iPod****, which she writes all her chapters on, is broken so the updates are going to be slower because she shares the computer with her mom, dad and sister (depending on which house she's at).**

**Me: Iggy…V? As in, Iggy vee or Iggy the Fifth?**

**Iggy V: Iggy the Fifth.**

**Me: O_o**

**Iggy V: That means I'm the clone of a clone of a clone of a clone of Iggy. **

**Me: Yeah, I got that…Wait, how do you know all this stuff about me? Are you some kind of stalker?**

**Iggy V: -bows- Now don't all of you throw flowers at once.**

**Me: :-O**

**Nifty: Yeah, I know, he's creepy.**

**Mr. G: …?**

**Me: -facepalm-**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Okay, I bet all you Americans out there have heard that _Wicked: The Musical_ is traveling around. Well, we went to go see it, and it was amazing. And while we were there, I realized something: Wicked _is just a big, overproduced fanfiction._ I mean, think about it! It even says it in the catchphrase: _The untold story of the Wicked Witch of the West._ Basically, the definition of fanfiction is a fan's interpretation of characters and plotline and untold stories and stuff, and that's what _Wicked_ is. So take heart, FF.n writers! You, too, could have your fic turned into a giant traveling famous Broadway show!**

**Disclaimer: JP probably hates deadlines. But I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they go by.**

"Yo! Up and at 'em!"

Groaning, I open my eyes. To my horror, the first thing I see is that in my sleep, my arm actually _did_ curl around Gaz and pull him closer. I jerk my arm back, hoping he didn't notice, but he rolls over and gives me a sweet little smile.

"Thanks, Fang," he murmurs, and I instantly feel guilty.

Next thing I know, I see Max's smirking face, and dread seeps into my stomach. A second later her boot connects with my side, penetrating the bruise through my thin jacket. It's smaller now, thanks to our superfast healing powers, but it's definitely still there. I grumble and roll over into a standing position.

Max has by now moved to the fire and is popping Jiffy Pop on it. I stumble over and sit next to the fire, in the same place as –

It hits me like a ton of bricks.

_Your mom thought you died, like Nudge. She was a teenager. They don't know who your dad was. But they told your mom you died._

Jeez. I can't believe I forgot. That's a hard thing to wake up to. I hide the emotion on my face by wiping crust from my eyes, and when I look back up, I have my expression back under control.

"We're headed for the Big Apple, guys," Max announces far too cheerfully. "The city that never sleeps. I think we're maybe six, seven hours away."

She offers me some Jiffy Pop, and I take a lethargic handful, ignoring the scalding heat. I pop a piece of popcorn in my mouth and crunch it down as a startling thought occurs to me.

_I wonder if any of us have siblings?_I glance at the flock, my gaze falling on Angel and Gaz. _Okay, besides the obvious._ But seriously. I mean, we aren't in some kind of Disney movie where a kid goes missing and twenty years later the parents are still sobbing over it. This is real life. It's definitely likely.

I stand, brushing my buttery fingers on my jacket. Feeling the cold metal zipper pressing against my bare skin, I can't shake the odd feeling that something's missing…oh yeah, my shirt. I'm not putting that thing back on. Grody. I unfurl my wings, avoiding clipping Iggy's head. He reaches up, brushed one of my primaries, and then returns to his popcorn, satisfied. It still amazes me that he can tell us apart by our feathers.

"Let's get this show on the road," I say brusquely, and the rest of the flock takes their time complying. I just want to leave here and never come back.

We take off one by one. I'm pretty far up when I hear Max scream in agony and see her falling way, way too fast, hitting the ground at maybe ten feet.

I'm on the ground so fast I don't even remember going there. I land hard and stumble, then run to Max. She's curled up in the dirt, her hands pressed over her ears. Eyes squeezed closed, water clinging to every lash, teeth clenched; she appears to be in more agony than I've seen her in since…well, since yesterday.

I tentatively reach out and touch her shoulder. "Max? Is it like before?"

She seems to be in too much pain to respond. A shrill, animal-like sound begins to come from her throat, and my gut clenches.

The rest of the flock has landed by now, and we're all gathered around Max. The keening sound continues as Max writhes in agony, and Iggy presses his hands to his ears in agony.

"Is Max okay?" Nudge says fearfully, tactlessly.

Iggy nearly shouts. "No, she's not okay! You think she does this for fun?" He takes a hand off of his ear to gesture at the girl on the ground, but winces and quickly replaces it.

Irritated at their pointless squabbling, I squat down on the ground, glancing at Angel. "What's she thinking?"

Angel closes her eyes for a moment, then cries out and clutches her head. "Don't make me," she wails, her eyes filling with tears. She shakes her head, squeezing her brain. "Don't make me, Fang."

"Okay, okay, you don't have to," I say quickly, trying to make her stop crying. I tear my eyes away from the four worried figures and watch Max instead. Panic begins to build in my chest.

I feel so…so helpless.

I used to rarely feel this way, but for some reason it's been happening a lot lately. All I know is that I would give anything, _anything,_ to be there on the ground instead of Max. To take it away from her so she wouldn't have to deal with it.

**Fang?**

It's Angel in my mind. I startle at her fearful presence.

_What's up, Angel?_

**Fang, I'm scared.**

Instantly my body tenses. Pulse racing, I stare down at the writhing form in front of me, keeping my face calm.

_Max will be fine,_ I say. _She was yesterday, right?_

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angel nod fearfully, her gaze fixated on Max. **Yeah, but this time it's different.**

_How so?_I ask, searching for any visible differences in Max's movements. I can't find any.

**There are pictures in her mind. Last time, there was just pain. But this time, it's both.**

_Pictures?_I say warily. _Like what kind of pictures?_

**Like…**

She shows me. I nearly gasp with what I'm seeing.

There are all kinds of patterns in Max's head. Swirls, dots, patterns and designs all over, lights and darkness, buildings, headlines from old papers, food, faces, landscapes, black and white oldies landscapes…

But the most notable thing is the pain.

It's explosive. It kills. My skull is splitting open like my brain is a bomb that Iggy has ignited, every piece and molecule exposed to the world. Somehow, I can hold it in – the scream, the keening, the roar of agony. I lock every muscle for the five seconds that it lasts.

When the pain recedes, my mindblocks go down. Anything to keep that mental attack from happening in the future, even if it means keeping Angel out.

"Sorry, Fang," Angel whispers out of the corner of her mouth.

I nod weakly. For some reason, I have an image of a bunch of Smurfs jack hammering the inside of my skull. It's a very strange picture. I decide right then and there that my kids, if I live long enough to have them, will never watch the Smurfs. Ever.

Movement catches my eye. I look at Max in time to see her roll slowly over, push herself up onto her hands and knees, crawl over to some bushes and then proceed to barf her guts up. I close my eyes in sympathy.

When she's done, she falls onto her back and lies gasping for a moment. We all gather around her and peer anxiously at her until she opens her eyes.

"Max, what is the _matter_ with you?" Angel asks, trembling.

"Think you should see a doctor?" I say, only half joking.

"Oh, yes, _that's_a good idea," she wheezes. "We need to let _more_ people in the authority know about us."

She's making jokes. She's okay. Relief floods me. "Look –" I say, but she stops me.

"I'm okay now," she says, averting her eyes. "Maybe it's a stomach bug or something." She gives me a weak smile, and I gaze skeptically at her. She looks away and sighs.

"Let's just go to New York," she says.

I give her a long look. Well, I guess if she says she is okay, we should probably go. I shrug at last and wave Gaz to go, and he does so reluctantly. The rest follow until it's just Max and me on the ground. My heart starts racing a little, like it does whenever I'm alone with her.

"After you," I say, jerking my thumb upward. She's not about to fall out of the air again – even if it's only three yards.

She stands, her jaw clenching. Her wings unfurl, and for a moment I think she won't make it because her running is so shaky. But then she leaps into the air and is off. I take off after her, flying just below her in case she decides to have another brain attack.

Max and Nudge start talking above me. I tune them out.

Ig and Gaz fly up next to me, one on either side. They grin at me mischievously, sneaking glances at each other. I look at them out of the corners of my eyes, feeling a little…nervous.

"So, Fang," Ig says.

"Yeah, so, Fang," Gaz repeats, chuckling.

I cut my eyes across at them, the nervous feeling getting stronger by the second. "Yeah? What do you want?"

Ig looks injured. "Is that really the welcome we get? We just wanted to have a little bro talk, man. Chill."

"Yeah, we're not _always_ up to something," Gaz enforces.

"You're not up to something when the Pope is flying." I reconsider that. "Actually, the Pope flying isn't that unrealistic. I mean, look at us."

Ig sniggers. "Yeah, 'cause we're regular holy men," he says.

"So what do you want again?" I say, keeping my voice irritation-free. "You wouldn't be bothering me if there wasn't something you wanted from me."

Ig mock gasps. "I'm _hurt_, Fang," he says, putting a hand on his chest. "Don't say such things about me."

Gaz butts in. "So, Faaaaaang," he all but purrs. "I heard you were going…dare I say it?..."

"Be quiet, Gasser," Ig snaps. "It's not _inappropriate._"

"Unless you think about why he's doing it," Gaz snickers as unease begins to build in my chest.

"_Anyway,_ I heard you were going bravado under that jacket of yours," Ig says seriously. "Care to tell us why?"

Oh, that's what they wanted? Annoyance rolls off of me in waves. I consider pulling a huge downstroke and soaring away from the pair, but decide against it. "Because my other shirt was disgustingly gory."

"And how did it get that way?" Iggy continues eagerly.

I pause, but if I don't tell them, they'll keep bugging me. "Because Ari beat me up," I say, grinding my teeth.

"What did you say?" Ig says, grinning from ear to ear.

"BECAUSE ARI BEAT ME UP!" I yell.

Ig and Gaz exchange surprised glances. "Wow, I can't believe he actually 'fessed up," Gaz says, sounding shocked.

"Oh, buzz off you two," I say angrily, and pour on the speed to get away. Their snickers ring in my head until the trip is over.

By the time we reach New York, it's dark out. My arms hurt after taking my self-inflicted shift carrying the exhausted Angel. She had decided to fly on her own about ten minutes ago after two hours of being carried by moi, and now she was soaring steadily above Max, who I was still flying just under.

"Oh, my God," says the Max in question. She's looking at all the lights below us, and my gaze lingers on her face before following her gaze. I'd rather keep looking at her face, which is alive and happier than I've seen in a while. All lit up from below, you could have fooled me if you had told me she was the Angel in the group.

Below her, a catrillion lights wind their way along the city. I leave the metaphors up to Max and sidle up next to her.

"That's a lot of people," I say, because I know the only reason Max keeps me around is for my constant and unwelcome paranoia.

She sighs and closes her eyes. Just like that, the happy vibe coming from her is killed. It's my job – what can I say?

"Oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh," Nudge babbles. "I want to go down there! I want to walk on Fifth Avenue! I want to go to museums! Do we have any money left? Can we get something to eat? Can we, like, go shopping?"

Ultimate valley girl sentence: "Can we, like, go shopping?" I resist giving myself a facepalm.

"We have some money," Max informs her. "We can get something to eat. But remember, we're here to find the Institute."

Nudge nods, but it's obvious she's not even listening. She opens her mouth to talk again, but Ig beats her to it. I swear she looks disappointed.

"What's that sound?" he says, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. _"It's music._ Is there music below us? How could we hear it way up here?"

Max peers down below us. "I think it must be a concert," she says. "In the park. An outdoor concert."

And she accuses _me_of not speaking in full sentences?

Nudge spies a chance and seizes it. "Oh, so cool! Can we go? Please, Max, please? A real concert!"

Max pauses for about a second. "Yes," she says. "Try to come down behind a floodlight's beam, so we won't be seen." At least she added the last bit. I narrow my eyes at her, but then I realize that it'll be next to impossible for any possible Erasers to find us in a crowd like the one down below us and relax a little.

We land silently and do what Ig and Gaz lovingly refer to as the Superman: i.e., change our look a little so that no one can tell that we've just been flying for the better part of the day. Max leads the way into the concert with the rest of us following her like ducklings. Oh, darn, I said I'd leave the metaphors to Max, didn't I? Well, didn't take long to blow _that_ to bits.

The music is insanely loud. The ground thrums under my shoes, tickling my feet. Speaker stacks tower above us. But the worst part is the _people_. There are so _many_, all crowded together, pushing and pulling and poking and prodding. I have to work hard to contain my look of disgust and grab Ig's hand, giving a little help to the blind guy. I grab Gaz's hand as well and push on determinedly after the girls.

"What concert is this?" Ig yells in Max's ear. She frowns and stands on her tiptoes to try and see.

"It's the Taylor Twins," she reports, and smiles break out on the faces of all the kids. Gaz whoops and raises his arms to Ig, who crouches and lets Gaz slip onto his shoulders. I lend him a hand as he wobbles back into a standing position, allowing Gaz to tower over the other people and see the concert. Ig slips him a lighter from his pocket, and Gaz flicks it on on the first try and holds it above his head. This whole exchange scares me a little, so I decide to keep an eye out for Erasers.

I'm also keeping an eye on Max. If she has another brain attack here, there won't be any question: we'll have to fly out. Any of these humans could be an Eraser; plus, if someone saw Max collapse on the ground they'd probably call an ambulance. And we couldn't have that. No, that wouldn't do at all.

It turns out I'm just being cautious as usual. The concert ends without anyone fainting or getting attacked. We melt into the shadows, waiting for the park to empty before flying into some trees. (Yeah, I know – cozy, right?)

"That was awesome," Nudge informs us as we settle in. "I can't believe how many people there were, all crowded into one place. I mean, listen…_There's no silence, ever._ I can hear people and traffic and sirens and dogs barking. I mean, it was always so quiet back at home."

Constant noise? Yeah, that sounds like Nudge's sort of thing.

"Too quiet," Gaz agrees.

"Well, I hate it," Ig says shortly. "When it's quiet, I can tell where the heck things are, people are, where echoes are bouncing off. Here I'm just surrounded with a thick, smothering wall of sound. I want to get out of here."

"Oh, Iggy, no!" Nudge cries. "This place is so cool. You'll get used to it."

That was insensitive, even for Nudge.

"We're here to find out what we can about the Institute," Max reminds them. "I'm sorry, Iggy, but maybe you'll get a little more used to it soon. And Nudge, this isn't a pleasure trip. Our goal is to find the Institute."

"How are we gonna do that?" Angel asks.

"_I have a plan,"_Max says firmly. She sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

I tap Ig's hand, and he nods. We both look at Max, thinking the same thing: _She really needs to stop lying to us._

**R&R? And tell me what you think about the whole _Wicked_ thing.**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I don't know how many of you have heard of Hot Chelle Rae, a band that's getting pretty popular now. They have a song that's always playing on the radio, "Tonight Tonight." Well, I liked them before that, and they had an amazing CD at first. Anyway, a few days ago they came out with a new CD. My expectations were really low because "Tonight Tonight" and "I Like It Like That" were so horrible (I mean seriously, **_**NEW BOYZ?**_**), but it's REALLY GOOD! I don't even like that kind of music and I still think it's amazing! All you people in Europe, feel lucky – they're touring with The Script! (Omg – a concert I would **_**totally**_** go to) so take your chance! Go see HCR live! Say hi to the bassist Ian for me! 'Cause he's SUPER HOT! Ok I'm done.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own already!**

New York = Freaking craziest city ever.

Not even joking. Literally, there could be a guy walking down the street with two heads and no one would even notice. When I wake up that morning (at dawn, I might add) there's already about a jillion people below me. I nearly jump out of my pants and shake the rest of the Flock awake before some pedestrian happens to look up and see six filthy kids sleeping in the trees.

We slip down out of the trees. No one notices – I mean, what are six kids climbing trees at six in the morning to the rest of NYC? Then we start just kind of casually wandering the paths, acting like we know what we're doing. I keep one eye on the Flock; one on everyone else. Just because there's a bunch of other people around doesn't mean that Erasers will hesitate to attack us. Probably no one will notice the shape-shifting wolfmen either.

"Check out that skater." Max points to a man Rollerblading down the path. "I've always wanted to learn how to do that."

"Check out _that_ skater," Gaz says, pointing to a skateboarder flipping around on the path. "I've always wanted to learn how to do that." He watches enviously as Max harrumphs.

"That lady has six white poodles!" Nudge says, pointing at a woman whose knees down are concealed in the fluffy white cloud of poodles. "Who needs six white poodles?"

"Maybe she sells them to kids with big wide eyes," Max says with a small smirk on her face.

"Something smells awesome." Ig says. I swear he has his nose in the air, sniffing like a dog. He turns his head this way and that, trying to find the source. "What is that? It's over there." He points behind me, and I turn to see a food vendor.

"There's a guy selling food," Max says. "It says honey-roasted peanuts."

Ig's face lights up like a kid on Christmas. "I am so there. Can I have some money?"

Max agrees, the smell obviously making her own stomach growl. She takes Ig and Angel over to get the peanuts, Nudge anxiously reminding her to get enough for all of us. I take her and Gaz over to a clown nearby whose hands are full of balloons.

"Ooh! Can you make balloon animals?" Nudge says eagerly.

"Of course, dear," says the clown in a heavy Northern accent. She sets down her good and quickly pumps up a pink balloon, quickly twisting it into an animal. "See? It's a bird." She smiles and holds it out to Nudge.

"I don't have any money," Nudge says sadly.

"For you, free," says the clown smoothly, and Nudge reaches out for the –

–_bird balloon? _

Birds can't be popular animals. The back of my neck prickles as Nudge's fingers close around the pink bird. Just then, I look up and see Max's panicked expression, and my hands clamp on Nudge and Gaz's shoulders.

"Fang –"

"No, Nudge," I say. "Leave the balloon." I steer her and Gaz away from the vendor and catch up with Max on the path, speeding our pace.

"What's going on?" I ask, but just then I see it – a man in a dark suit with a headpiece on his ear, talking quickly into it with his eyes locked on us. He's quickly joined by two more – another man and a woman. Max looks back and sees the added people, swearing under her breath.

"Run!' she says, and we take off. If they _are_ Erasers, which they definitely are, they can easily keep pace with us, even with our light and agile bodies. I risked another look back – they were gaining on us, and they weren't even breaking a sweat.

We pelted through the labyrinth of paths, narrowly missing many head-on collisions with bikers and walkers. I look back at the Erasers again.

"Four of them," I yell. "Pour it on, guys!"

We speed up, nearly doubling our speed. Still the Erasers easily keep us in sight, slowly gaining, even. They're all grinning hungrily now, and suddenly those honey-roasted peanuts clutched in Angel's hand don't smell so great anymore.

"Six of them!" Max says, starting to look worried.

"They're too fast," I say quickly. "Maybe we should fly."

Max bites her lip, looking torn. I look back again. "Eight of them!" I yell.

"_Left!" _Iggy shouts, and we all veer suddenly to the left without question. How he could have known it was there, I have no idea.

The path suddenly opens into a large plaza with a zillion more vendors than at the other paths. We book it toward a brick building with a metal gate saying _Central Park Zoo_ and a bunch of kids outside all in a big crowd, Max hissing "Merge!" in our ears.

Just like that, we melt into the crown of schoolkids, ducking down to be shorter. Knocking kids left and right, we soon make it to the front of the crowd. I resist the urge to turn and punch a girl in the face when she reaches out and touches my hair, whispering, "It's so…_soft…_" quietly enough that a normal human wouldn't be able to hear it.

Max looks over some girl's shoulder and gives a thumbs up. I let out a tiny sigh as the Erasers tried to get in the gates but were blocked by the cops. What happened went a little like this:

**Cop: **School day only.

**Eraser:** -snarl-

**Cop: **No unauthorized adults.

**Eraser:** I'm a, um…a chaperone.

**Cop: **Oh, you're a chaperone? Yeah? Show me your pass.

**Eraser: **-snarl-

Victory to the NYCPD!

When we reached the gate, I half expected to get the same treatment as the Eraser. But the cop waved us right through, muttering "Pass, pass, pass," without even looking at us.

A second later we burst through the crowd, free of the claustrophobic press of middle and high schoolers. We all scrambled to the side and then slapped a quick high-five.

"Yes!" Gaz cheers. "School day only! Yes! I love this place!" He eagerly accepts his bag of honey-roasted peanuts from Angel and shoves a handful into his mouth, chewing with a huge grin on his face.

"The zoo!" Nudge says, all but jumping up and down with a sudden adrenaline rush. "I've always wanted to see a zoo! I've read about 'em – I've seen them on TV. This is so great! Thanks, Max."

Max looks surprised for a moment, but then adopts a "Yeah I know I'm awesome" look and settles back smugly. I can't help a little snort from escaping.

"Come on, let's get farther in," says Ig, somehow managing to sound nervous and inhale his honey-roasted peanuts at the same time. "Put some distance between us and them. Jeez, was that a lion? Please tell me it's behind bars."

"It's a _zoo,_ Iggy," says Nudge, taking his arm and escorting him farther away from the gate. _"Everything _is behind bars." She waves her hand in the air like a supermodel and turns to wink at us. Angel laughs and pushes another peanut between her lips, offering me the last bag. I accept and open it, inhaling the scent of the nuts, still warm. Mmm.

It takes about five minutes for me to polish off those peanuts. I start to get a seriously uneasy feeling in my gut. Not hair-prickling weird yet. Just…I don't know. Something's seriously off here. I can't help but do constant perimeter sweeps, scanning over the caged animals, the happy tourists, to see if there's anything I could possibly be missing. But there's nothing. Is it just me? Am I just unbelievably paranoid?  
"Oh, man, look at this bear!" Gaz yells, distracting my thoughts. He waves excitedly at us, his nose pressed against the glass. The flock runs to him; I take my time, sweeping the area again. _Bizarre._

"I'd love to have a pool," Gaz says wistfully. Wait, what? He was just talking about bears. I whip my head around to stare at him. Oh, he's talking about the habitat. That kind of scared me for a sec. I turn back to my bodyguard duties.

"That would be really cool," I hear Max agreeing.

"Dude." It's Ig. He'd come up behind me without me noticing. "Loosen up."

I turn to look at him. "Loosen up? In a crowd like this?" I close my eyes for a moment. How can I _loosen up?_ We just got chased ten blocks by bloodthirsty Erasers.

Ig studies me. I can tell he knows what I'm thinking. "Come on, man," he says. "Live in the present. The Erasers? The School? That's all in the past. You, my friend, need to relax." He gives a little grin. "Help me find Gasser?"

I sigh and lead him back to the boy. When they're reunited, I slip away towards Max, who looks stressed.

"Omigod, Iggy, you _have_ to let me describe this to you!" Nudge's shrill voice rings across the zoo. Laughing, Gaz and Ig half-run, half-stumble towards her, where she's standing with Angel on her back.

"This place is giving me the creeps," I murmur to Max.

She looks startled for a second. Finally, she blows out a big breath, sending a lock of hair puffing up away from her face. "You too? I'm going nuts," she admits. "It's flashback city. And I have – I have an overwhelming desire to set all these animals free."

She avoids my eyes. _She's lying. Again? What will it take for her to tell me the truth? _I decide to play along. "Free to do what?" I say, controlling my anger.

"Just to be _out_, to escape," she says, licking her lips.

"Out in the middle of Manhattan?" I say.I can't help ripping her stupid lie to shreds. "Free to live without protection, without someone bringing them food, with no idea of how to take care of themselves? They're better off here. Unless you want to fly to Greenland with a polar bear on your back."

She bites her lip angrily and glares at me. I stare back at her impassively. _You started it._ Angry, she stalks off to complain to the others. I watch her, a tiny crease forming involuntarily between my eyebrows.

I couldn't help it. I was worried about her.

Really worried.

A little while later, we've made it out of the zoo. Strolling down the street, eating whatever we wanted – you know, it's kind of the life. Roll call? There's Gaz, chomping on a 'dog. Check. There's Ig, licking a tall vanilla soft-serve in a cake cone. Check. There's Nudge, devouring a carton of French fries. Check. Angel, slurping a soft drink so large she has to hold the cup with both hands. Check. Max, trying to cram way too much of her slice of pizza into her mouth at once. Check. And me, chewing a Greek gyro. Oh, my God. These things are truly my calling. The doughy, warm pita – the juicy, fresh tomato – the crunchy, crisp lettuce – the cool, thick tzatziki sauce – all combined together to make one of the best things I've eaten, basically ever. Including the honey-roasted peanuts.

"You know what I like about New York?" Gaz says with his mouth full of kosher hot dog. "It's full of New Yorkers who are freakier than we are."

A woman with dyed-black hair in pigtails, fishnets, stripper heels, ten pounds of makeup, and about a gajillion piercings glares at him as she strides past. Gaz gives her a large, food-filled grin, and she shudders.

"So we blend?" Ig says uncertainly.

Max glances at him, thinking. "More or less. Of course, that won't help with the Erasers." She does a perimeter sweep at the word, then returns to her NYC slice.

"Speaking of which, we seem to be dealing with version 6.0." I sigh and lick tzatziki sauce from my lips before taking another bite.

"I was thinking the same thing," Max says, her mouth full of pepperoni. "This year's crop looks more human. And there are females. Which is a bummer." She keeps her gaze on the crowd as she speaks, keeping her eyes open for anyone who looks too intent to be casually shopping.

"Yeah. We all know how bloodthirsty females are. Dirty fighting and so on," I say, and Max rolls her eyes, polishing off her pizza.

"Can I have a burrito?" Nudge squeals suddenly, bouncing as she spies another food vendor. She spins so she's walking backward on the sidewalk. "What's a nish? I can have a burrito, right?"

"Ka-nish," Max corrects as Ig rolls his eyes. "It's like a square of mashed potatoes, fried."

"What's sauerkraut?" Angel asks innocently.

"You don't want it. Trust me," Max says darkly.

We each get a different kind of burrito. Guess which kind I get? That's right, the Greek kind. Yum, another gyro.

"I like being able to just buy food as we walk along," Nudge says happily. "If you walk a couple blocks, there's someone selling food. And delis. I love delis! They're everywhere! Everywhere you go, there's everything you need; food, delis, banks, subway stops, buses, cool stores, fruit stands right on the street. This is the best place, I'm telling you. Maybe we should always live here."

"It would certainly be convenient for the Erasers," Max says meanly. "They wouldn't have to track us down in the middle of nowhere." Seeing Nudge's frown, she quickly amends, "But you're right, Nudge. I know what you mean." She lapses into silence, and we walk quietly for a while.

Suddenly, she stops dead. I drop the shiny metal wrapper from my deceased gyro and rush to her, ready to catch her if she falls. "The pain?" I hiss, trying to find somewhere to hide her, my heartbeat picking up, _not here, not now, _please_…_

She shakes her head. "Cookies!" she cries.

I look at her. _Is she _kidding_ me?_

She spins around to see where the smell is coming from and sees a little store with a red awning. "I must have cookies," she says, and blows into the store, the flock following her, leaving me outside, my adrenaline pumping.

Is she serious?

Cookies.

She just gave me a heart attack over _cookies?_

Fuming, I had to struggle to control myself and not punch the storefront. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. It's okay, Fang, buddy, just chillax…

_What had happened to Max?_

_And where was the old Max?_

_I want her back!_

**You know the drill….**

**R&R&R&R&R&R!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: I would like to give a shout out to a reviewer here. The reviewer is ****Feniasol**** and this person recently sent me a very interesting review.**

**Feniasol**** said that he/she had a friend named Em who was tired of FanFiction because she found that **_**the stories were too difficult to update. **_**She decided to go ahead and make a blog, which I visited and you can too (****http : / ems-write. blogspot . com/) (remove spaces). I went ahead and checked it out. Scrolling down the page, I found a post that read (and I quote) : **So! I finished the first chapter! yaaay! You should be proud of me |-) lololol!  
But!  
There is a very slight, tiny, minuscule, so-small-that-my-flu-virus-has-to-use-a-microscope-to-see-it, small, pretty little detail:  
**Where do I post it?**

**I am so sorry, honey. There is a wonderful site right here called **_**Fanfiction **_**where it is **_**very**_** easy to post stories and people will actually **_**read**_** them. Although judging from your grammatical skills (you spelled **_**Writing**_** wrong on your website name, sweetheart) I don't even think people who were lucky enough to stumble across your blog would read it. I think that if you spent 5 minutes with the page where you add chapters you'd probably be able to figure it out. (Another actual quote from this site: **I know you know I hate FanFiction and that I'm too useless to figure out how to use it, so... **) God!**

**I am sorry. I hate people like this. Plus, this ****Feniasol**__**wasn't even reading my story – they were just advertising this stupid blog. Please, people. If there is anyone out there doing this now, just stop. No one wants to hear it. **

**I have now gone over my self-allotted word count for this chap. Whatever. Disclaimer: Activated.**

"So what's your big plan for finding the Institute?" Iggy asks as we walk along.

Max opens her mouth, but Nudge cuts over her. "I'm tired of walking," she says. "Can we just sit for a minute?" Conveniently, as she says this, we're passing a building with these big stone steps. Without waiting for an answer, she sinks onto a step and lets her head fall into her hands, closing her big brown eyes.

"Uh." The situation is slipping out of Max's control as Gaz and Angel sit on either side of Nudge and Iggy slouches against the rail. Her eyes unfocus as she looks at them, and I sense she's scrambling for a lifeline. I jump in to help.

"How about a phone book? Every once in a while I see one," I suggest.

"Yeah, that's a possibility," she says, inserting her pinky into her mouth and chewing on the nail.

"No, I want to hear our leader's great plan," Iggy mutters under his breath, but she doesn't seem to hear him. She blinks a few times, and I lean into Iggy, muttering in his ear.

"Is it just me, or does she seem totally out of it?"

"It's not just you," he mutters back, then says louder, "So what are we going to do?"

She's silent for a moment more, and I'm about to go and peer into her eyes, maybe hold up a few fingers and have her count them, when a look of enlightenment comes over her face.

"We're going to start in here," she says briskly. I look for the first time at the building kindly letting the younger three use its stone steps. _New York Public Library of Humanities and Social Sciences_? What? The only thing I got out of that was that it was a library. How on earth did she get so lucky? Clapping her hands to get the younger three on their feet, she starts up the stairs. "I figure they've got computers, databases…" Unable to think of anything else – like, oh, I don't know, _books_ –she lets her voice trail off and the younger three follow her inside.

"How does she do that?" I mutter to Iggy, who just shakes his head and sighs.

None of us had ever been to a library before, and so it doesn't really need to be said that the extreme size of this one hit each and every one of us like a jackhammer. I even let my jaw drop a little, and Nudge gives a little gasp and puts her hands up to her face.

This library is bigger than my life.

"May I help you?" A bored looking teenage guy was lounging behind a desk, looking like he was about 18 or 19. Not really much like an Eraser, but you never know.

"Yes." Max steps forward, putting her serious face on. "I was hoping to find information about a certain institute that I _think_ is in New York." Then she does something utterly disgusting – turns on the charm, smiling at the guy in a way that I knew if it was directed at me, I'd be completely weak at the knees. I let out a little gasp and watch as the guy blinks at her, stunned. "Unfortunately, I don't know the whole name or where in New York it is. Is there a computer I could use to search? Or some sort of database?"

The guy is floored. I can see him thinking, Jeez, hot _and_ smart. I want to punch the guy.

"Fourth floor," he says, coming out of his reverie. "There are computers in a room off the main reading room. They're free, but you have to sign in."

"Thank you so much," Max smiles. I turn and give the douche the evilest death glare I can muster. Then I catch up with the others in the elevator.

Gaz cheerfully presses the 4.

"Well, aren't you the charmer," I say, not looking at her.

"What?" she says, sounding surprised. I ignore her.

Hating being in small spaces is something that I guess comes with being raised in dog crates. By the time we get to the fourth floor all of us are seriously hyperventilating. Jumping out of the elevator as if it'll close and never reopen if we don't, I let out the first deep breath in what feels like years. Max heads over to a computer bank and reads the instructions quickly. She turns to a sign-in chart and signs in with a flourish. Feeling apprehensive – _she's not stupid enough to sign in with her own name, is she? – _I approached the sheet and read the name Ella Martinez.

What?

Before I can ask Max about that, though, she's already started searching on her computer, so, grudgingly, I sit and help her.

It's in vain. We search for an hour and a half. Nothing. By the end my head is pounding from staring at the screen for so long, as well as Nudge and Gaz's bickering over their hangman game – neither of them can spell worth crap, and they rarely agree on how anything is actually spelled. Angel's lying near Max's feet, murmuring quietly to herself, and Ig is sitting tense in a chair, listening to every miniscule noise around him.

Max types in one last command, and then her eyes go wide in panic as the system crashes – orange letters proclaiming _fail, fail, fail, _before the screen goes blank.

"It's almost closing time, anyway," I murmur, putting a hand on her bony shoulder.

"Can we sleep here?" Ig says softly, his voice like rust from disuse. "It's so quiet. I like it in here."

"Uh, I don't think so," Max says, looking around. I do the same, and realize with a start that we're the only ones left in the room. Wait, did I say the only ones? Scratch that. There was a security guard headed right for us.

"Let's split," Max mutters, pulling Ig out of his chair. Holding tight to his hand, she leads the rest of us out of the library and down the stone steps. Surprisingly, no one is following us, but we run a couple blocks just to make sure.

"Can we take the subway back to the park?" Nudge asks, her eyes drooping.

It's dark out. The whole afternoon passed away while we were glued to the computer. Well, they say that media is addicting, after all.

"It's only eighteen blocks to walk," Max says, the stops, seeing how tired Angel is as well, and how lame her argument is. "Let's see how much it would cost."

We find the nearest subway entrance and start heading down. Almost immediately I start to get an uneasy feeling. I look at both Max and Ig, who are both clearly feeling jittery as well.

Max checks the prices, sighing – it's expensive. I tap her shoulder and nod to the fare booth, which is empty. A calculating look comes over her face, and she nods and slips under the turnstile, the rest of us following suit.

We waited at the tracks for ten minutes, after which we realized that there was no train coming. Max looks exasperated. At least we didn't pay.

Ig starts and leans out over the tracks, listening intently. I quickly grab his hand so that he doesn't fall as Max says, "What?"

"People," he says softly. "In there."

"Workers?" Max's eyebrows furrow.

"I don't think so."

Max peers down the tunnel as well, her gaze focusing on something I couldn't see. Then, her expression not even changing, she makes one of those snap decisions we all love so much and jumps down into the railway.

"Let's go," she said, and we had no choice but to follow.

"What does that mean?" Gaz asks, pointing to a sign that reads "Stay off the third rail!"

"It means the third rail has seven hundred volts of direct current running through it," I say. "Touch it and you're human popcorn."

"Okay," Max says pleasantly. "Good tip. Everyone stay off the third rail." Then she turns and gives me a killing glare. I look at her with an almost amused expression. What? I can't miss an awesome trolling opportunity like that one provided.

Ig felt it first – of course. "Everyone off the rails," he says, letting Max guide him over to the nasty wall. We press flat against it, and just in time – thirty seconds later, the train roars past. And no, I do not miss the irony here. Why oh why didn't it come when we were up there on the tracks instead of down here on the rails?

Max gingerly peels herself off of the wall. "Well, that was fairly nerve-wracking," she says, trying to brush herself off as much as possible.

"Who's there?" calls an aggressive voice, scaring the nutter butters out of me since I haven't been expecting it.

We all walk forward, on alert, ready to do an up-and-away in a second. But when we see what's in front of us, we stop abruptly.

"Nobody," Max said, then stops as well.

"Whoa," Gaz breathes.

In front of us is an underground city – people cluttering the floor, a ceiling stretching high above us, dripping with condensation and paint stalactites. Some people have made fires in fifty-gallon oil drums. Although it's s a warm spring night, the fires provide the only light and heat from the chill of the underground. It stinks, but it's not like we aren't used to that. Several dirty faces look at us, and then look away, uninterested. Someone else says, "Not cops. _Kids." _Only one face still looks our way: that of a middle-aged, filthy woman who's wearing layers and layers of clothing.

"You got food?" she barks.

Nudge silently pulls her napkin-wrapped knish out of her pocket and hands it to the woman, who sniffs it and then turns and begins eating noisily.

It's a whole new place, made up entirely of homeless people. There're even a few who look to be about our age. I cut a glance at Max, who is rubbing her forehead tiredly.

"Over there," says the woman, pointing. I follow the direction of her finger to see a concrete ledge in the wall, mostly covered with people. There's a blank spot about thirty feet long with no one there. Max glances at me, and I shrug. Why not? It's not as good as the park, but it'll do.

We went over and scrambled up onto the ledge. Keeping our backs out, we stacked our fists and tapped twice. Everyone almost instantly lay down and closed their eyes, while I leaned against the wall, keeping a lookout. To my surprise, Max joined me.

"You okay?" I murmured as she rubbed her head again.

"Yeah," she mutters. "I'll be better tomorrow."

"Go to sleep," I say. "I'll take first watch."

She shoots me a grateful smile and curls up, using my lap for a pillow. I watch her fondly as she closes her eyes and quickly falls asleep.

**Heh. Ended with some Fax! R&R? **


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey, nerds. What's up.**

**Grahh! I hate this story :( I am so ready for it to be done…unfortunately, I'm not even 2/3 done yet. –wails- This is dragging me down majorly. All my other stories are within 5 chapters of being finished, and this is still…bleh. Whatever. Let's get on with it.**

**Ulquiorra: This story is trash. It is not original content, in fact it is plagiarism. I do not know why you are writing it. The motives behind the things that you do are far beyond me.**

**Me: Shut up! You're not welcome in this fandom!**

**Ulquiorra: Well, it's not like **_**he**_** didn't come to **_**my**_** fandom. –points at Fang-**

**Fang: Huh? Oh, yeah, I did go to your fandom for a moment. It confused me.**

**Me: Okay, who wants to do the disclaimer? –sneakily changing subject like a bau5-**

**Nifty: MEE~ !Disclaimer: ACTIVATE!**

**Me: Nifty, what are you—**

I'm just about to wake up Iggy for second watch when it happens again.

Max sits up fast, like a broken umbrella collapsing in on itself. Her eyes are wide, and her fingers are clutched to her skull like if she lets go her head will crack open and her brains will splatter everywhere.

Déjà vu, much? Ahh.

"Max?" I try to make my voice as gentle as possible, remembering the feeling of that pain, slicing through my skull. Any small noise is like a rusty chainsaw inside your head, drilling into your brain, splitting your skull into neat chunks like Pangaea into the seven continents.

She moans, and then her mouth opens, random noises coming out. If I hadn't known better I would say she was speaking different languages – _Spanish, Japanese, German, French, Greek – _God knows what else, all one after the other, like she was saying a sentence in each language very quickly.

"Fang." It's Iggy. His voice is low, worried. "Is it happening again?"

"Sh." I shush the blind boy behind me. "Are the others asleep?"

"Like rocks." Iggy makes his way over to Max. "What's going on? Is she speaking Dutch?"

"Among other things." I put my hand on Max's shoulder, squeezing gently to let her know I'm still here. "I don't know what to do," I confessed.

"You're not the only one, bro." Iggy sits back helplessly. "If there was a surface wound, then maybe. I just don't…Ugh, I hate Bosnian. It sounds like someone just sat there and spewed out random words and matched them with random meanings. When d'you think she learned that?"

"I don't know," I say, not really thinking about it too hard, seeing as Max's sudden multilingual skills are the last of my worries right now. Okay, maybe not the last. But it isn't as high on the list as how the heck I'm going to stop her pain.

"_Who's screwing with my Mac?"_

Me and Iggy both look up, tense on high alert. Max is still muttering to herself. Now I think it's Italian. "Who's there?" Iggy calls, his head turned to see if he can hear anything else.

"Who are you?" the voice comes again. It sounds male and superbly pissed. "What are you doing? You've crashed my whole system, you worthless dipstick!"

Max is finally silent, and her firm grip on her skull is beginning to loosen a little bit. I breathe a sigh of relief. _She's going to be okay._

"What are you talking about?" I say dangerously, hiding my relief.

"My system crashed. I've tracked the interference, and it's comin' from _you_. So I'm tellin' you to knock it off – or else!"

The owner of the voice finally gets close enough for me to see. He's short, but his proportions suggest that he is about our age. He has on a beanie pulled down around his ears, dirty and ragged army fatigues, and he has his PowerBook attached to his shoulders like an accordion or something. Despite his filthy and ragged appearance, his computer is shiny and spotless, like he spends a great deal of time keeping it meticulous.

And yeah, even Angel could easily take him. I hold in a snort.

"And what's wrong with _her_? She trippin'?"

"She's fine," I say coldly, even though she's anything but. "We don't know anything about your computer. If you're not brain-dead, you'll get out of here." I need him to leave so that we can deal with Max.

"I'm not going nowhere till you quit messing with my Mac," the guy says flatly. "Why don't you get your girlfriend to a hospital?"

Iggy snorts quietly behind me, and I resist the urge to reach around and backhand him across his white face.

Max attempts to sit up, making me automatically start freaking out. "Who the hell are _you_?" she whimpers, sounding so pathetic that I gently push her back down. She sits back up right away.

"None of your beeswax!" he yells, making Max wince. "Just quit screwing up my motherboard."

Max takes a deep breath. "What are you talking about?" she croaks. I feel a wave of annoyance. Does she not trust me to handle this kid? She needs to lie down and rest.

"This!" the kid yells. He turns his Mac toward us, and Max gasps, her eyes squinting against the glare of the screen - but she doesn't look away. I look at it as well.

It's the same stuff that Angel had showed me from her mind during the attack.

Max looks shakily at the kid. "Who _are_ you?" she whispers.

"I'm the guy who's gonna kick your butt if you don't quit messing with my system," he says angrily. Tough, but unrealistic. Talk about an empty threat.

The screen changes to green. Red words scrolled down.

_Hello, Max._

mind=blown

I look around and stare at Max. She gazes back at me helplessly. Then like we're attached to levers, we both look back at the screen, which now reads _Welcome to New York._

Max jumps. "Can you hear that?" she says shakily. _"Did _you hear it?"

"Hear what?" I look over at Iggy, who shakes his head.

"That voice?" She rubs her head while me and Iggy share a confused glance. A voice? No…

"What's the deal?" asks the kid. He sounds kind of weirded out. "Who's Max? How are you doing this?"

"We're not doing anything," I tell him, and the kid's eyebrows shoot up. Max clutches her head again, and the screen goes funkadelic again. Coincidence? I think no. Four words stand out to me among the chaos: _Institute for Higher Living._ Max looks at me, and I nod to show that I've seen them before the screen goes blank again.

The kid starts typing furiously. "I'm gonna track this down…"

We watch him drill his keyboard for a few minutes, the frown on his face growing steadily deeper. Finally he sits back. He looks around him for what seems to be the first time, seeing the other kids sleeping, Iggy sitting behind Max, who she doesn't seem to have noticed yet.

"I don't know how you're doing it," he says irately. "Where's your gear?"

"We don't have any gear," I tell him. "Spooky, isn't it?"

"You guys on the run? You in trouble?"

"Why would you think that?" I ask, avoiding his question with Ninja Fang skills.

"Let me see," he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Maybe because you're a bunch of _kids_ sleepin' in a _subway tunnel._ Kind of clues me in, you know?"

Ninja Fang has been momentarily defeated.

"What about you?" Max asks, turning the question around. "You're a kid sleeping in a subway tunnel. Don't you have school?"

The boy laughs without humor. "MIT kicked me out."

MIT? Oh, so he's a midget, then. One look into Iggy's blind eyes has me reeling at the amount of amusement in them. Right, not a midget. Just an effing genius. Of course.

"Uh huh," Max deadpans.

"No, really," he says sheepishly. "I got early admission. Was gonna major in computer technology. But I spun out, and they told me to take a hike."

"What do you mean, spun out?" If he's a psycho, I don't care how bad Max's head hurts. I don't care how tired Angel is or how lazy Nudge is feeling at that moment. If he's insane I was getting the flock the hell away from him. And so far he seems pretty insane.

He shrugged, though, instead of going on a weed-induced rage like I was half-expecting. "Wouldn't take my Thorazine. They said, no Thorazine, no school."

Oh, so he wasn't insane by druggie standards. He was actually insane. Level schizoid.

"So you didn't like Thorazine." Max sounds like she's struggling to hold in a laugh.

His face hardens. "No. Or Haldol, or Melleril, or Zyprexa. They all suck. People just want me to be quiet, do what I'm told, don't make trouble."

Okay. Things were getting too emotional and deep for Ninja Fang. He can only deal with surface discussions. "So what's up with your computer, man?" I say in an attempt to save my manhood.

He shrugs again. "It's my bread and butter. I can hack into anything. Sometimes people pay me. I do jobs when I need money." Suddenly he tenses and seems to go on alert. "Why? _Who wants to know?" _he demands.

"Chill out, dude," I say, putting up my hands. "We're just having a chat."

The guy is too far gone. He backs up slowly. "Who sent you?" he shrills. "Who are you? You just leave me alone! You just stay away!"

He turns and runs into the subway tunnel. A few seconds later, we can no longer hear his footsteps.

"It's always so refreshing to meet someone crazier than us," Max says almost dreamily. "We seem so normal afterward."

"_We?" _I say in a don't-lump-me-together-with-you voice.

"What's up?" Iggy says, wanting to know the visual details. Max sighs and explains it to him. All of it – even the stuff I didn't know, like a voice inside of her head. I frown.

"Maybe I'm going crazy," she says in a tone that suggests she's trying not to think about it. "But it will lead me to greatness. Like Joan of Arc."

"But controlling other people's computers?" Iggy says, a skeptical look on his face.

"I don't see how," Max says. "But since I have no clue about who or what could possibly be causing it, I guess I can't rule anything out."

"Hmm. Do you think it's connected to the School or the Institute?" I muse out loud.

"Well, either that or I was born this way," Max says sarcastically. I try and fail to prevent the song from playing loudly and obnoxiously through my head. "On the off chance that I _wasn't_, let's really, really try to find the Institute tomorrow. At least now we know what name to look for."

As she lays back down, I grab Iggy's shoulder, stopping him from following suit.

"Hey dude," I whisper. The whites of his eyes gleam in the darkness. "Hey, can you keep this a secret?" I ask him once Max is asleep. "From the little ones? I don't want to scare them."

"Sure thing," says Iggy, starting to lie down again.

"Oh, no, you don't." I grab his shoulder again, and he props himself up on his arm, angry now.

"What now?"

"You're taking watch." I smile at his groan of exasperation and settle down on the concrete, closing my eyes.

"Fang."

"What?" I open my eyes a crack and glare at the blind boy, who I swear is grinning back.

"Goodnight."

I mutter in his general direction and turn onto my side, using my hands as a pillow. I close my eyes again, and suddenly my eyes seem to be cast in bronze.

"Fang?"

"_What?"_

"Goodnight."

…

…

…

"Fang?"

"Oh, my god! Shut up!"

"No, I'm serious this time," he says quietly. "There's really someone there."

I sit up fast. "Where?" I ask, peering into the blackness, trying to discern a shape. "Where are they?"

"Nowhere." Iggy snickers. "Just fooling ya."

"Oh, my God." I lie back down. He is irritating.

"Fang?"

"GOODNIGHT!"

**-here? Oh, crap, the story cut into my author's note in the middle of my senence, ahaha – review?**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hey everyone! Iggy V's back today! It's been awhile, Iggy V!**

**Iggy V: That's Iggy the Fifth, not Iggy Vee, in case you all were wondering.**

**Me: Err. Nifty, I know better than to ask anyone else to do the disclaimer, so would you like the honor?**

**Nifty: No, not today. I'm practicing.**

**Iggy V: Practicing what?**

**Nifty: Secret stuff. –leaves like the awesome bitch she is-**

**Me: Oh. So, Iggy V, would you like to do it?**

**Nifty: No, I want to.**

**Me: But you just said you didn't.**

**Nifty: Well I changed my mind. Disclaimer: Mr. Gartland does not own this story.**

**Me: What about me?**

**Nifty: I don't care about you. –leaves again-**

**Me: T_T**

Max looks like crap when she wakes up that morning. After all she'd been through the night before, Ig and I decided to split the last watch and let her sleep instead. Still, even with the extra couple hours of sleep she looks like a zombie, complete with the bags under her eyes, ratty hair, and bad breath. I hate to have to wake her up, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

"Is it morning?" Angel yawns.

"I'm hungry," Nudge says before she even opens her eyes.

"Okay, we'll get you some chow," Max says. "Then it's off to find the Institute."

I don't want Max going off anywhere to find anything. She actually needs to sleep in a bed. For, like, an entire day. But I don't get to choose what Max does.

We trudge through the subways for a couple minutes before emerging back into the fresh air. Which isn't really that fresh once you think about it, but it's like if you have scurvy and you find a week-old orange. You're still grateful for the orange since you have scurvy. What I'm trying to say is that the fumes down in that tunnel were pretty horrible, and the fumes up here were slightly less than horrible.

"It's so bright," Gaz says, shielding his eyes. This he follows with an "Is that honey-roasted peanuts?"

Of course it is, because life is just that great. So we buy some and proceed to stuff our faces. Max appears to be trying to think, but if I had to hazard a guess I'd say she was just focusing on keeping her eyes open. Suddenly she sees a phone book plus a booth and speeds up; but then returns to us and shakes her head wearily.

"What the he-eck are we supposed to do _now?"_ she says, reining in her swearing with admirable ability.

I think. Well, the whitecoats aren't stupid. It isn't as though we can just stroll into any dinky little town and call up the number for a place like the School either. You're going to have to work to uncover something like that. They are very good at covering their tracks.

I'm sure she knows all of this, so instead of wasting time explaining, I offer her a peanut. She looks exasperated but accepts it. Of course she accepts it. The things are irresistible.

We keep walking. Ig finishes his peanuts in record time and so decides to mooch off of me. Well, that's okay. I share my peanuts and keep up a constant commentary about the streets so that he can know what there is to see.

"Smile, you're on _Candid Camera."_ I point to a window, where a couple of TV screens were displaying pictures of the people walking past. Ig frowns and turns away from the lens, as do the rest of us, paranoid as always.

Max winces, and I glance at her sharply to see her staring in amazement at the TV screens. I whip around and see the words _Good morning, Max, _block out the pictures entirely and fill the entire screen. Looking around, I see that it's not just these screens – _every single screen, all around us, is covered with these words._

"Jeez," I say, my feet suddenly lead. _Way to stay anonymous._ Ig stumbles into me, and I automatically catch him.

"What? What is it?" asks the blind boy, but no one can recover from their shock enough to tell him.

"Is that you?" Gaz asks. Fear fills his voice; he clasps my hand with shaking fingers. "How do they know you?"

I squeeze his hand reassuringly as Max halts, her hands gripping her skull. Her eyes are wide. Suddenly she shouts, "I don't want to have fun! I want some answers!"

Was it the Voice? The same one as the night before? Was she going to have another brain attack, right here? We have to get to cover. I tense, my body on red alert, as she grips her head even tighter, and then seems to come back to Earth. She blinks and remembers us, looking at the five of us helplessly.

"Max, are you okay?" Nudge asks, a crease between her eyebrows.

Max nods, even though she's obviously not. "I think we should get on the Madison Avenue bus," she says. I breathe a sigh of relief – looks like another brain attack is not in the near future.

"Why?" I ask her, my voice flat.

Her head turns toward me so that the younger three can't see her mouth when she mouths, _The Voice._

I nod, frowning on the inside. _Yeah, so we're going to trust a little voice that magically appeared inside your head? _"But Max, what if this is all a trap?" I whisper, barely audible.

"I don't know!" Max says loudly. So much for not worrying the others. "But maybe we should do what it says for a while – to see."

"Do what _what_ says?" Gaz demands, his hand tight in mine.

Max completely ignores him, walking to the corner bus stop. I swallow my irritation and explain to Gaz. "Max has been hearing a voice, inside her. We don't know what it is."

"Like her conscience?" Nudge asks. "Do the TVs have to do with it?"

"We don't know," I say evenly. "Right now it wants us to get on the Madison Avenue bus, apparently." I watch Max walking with Angel in front of us, and my eyes narrow. _What is going on?_

"Max has no conscience," Gaz says scornfully. "One time we were eating cake, and when I got up to go the bathroom, Max ate all of mine. Every single crumb. Her conscience withered on that day. Now it's a dead rat in her soul that makes her stink."

"Well," I say, not really knowing what else to say. I bite back a laugh. _Max's conscience is a dead rat in her soul that makes her stink._ I'd have to tell Max about that.

"Fang," says Ig. His hand is on Nudge's shoulder, following the girl. "I thought we weren't going to –"

"We have to," I say firmly. "We're a team. If Max is going schizoid, we all need to know."

The bus is a few blocks away. I watch Max push our fare money into the till with no small amount of regret. _Well, there goes our next meal._ If this Voice thing turns out to be a trap of some kind there would be hell to pay.

The bus was a ten on a one to ten scale of awfulness. There were about a bajillion people on there, so we had to stand in the aisle. Ig, Max and I hold onto the straps, but the other kids can't reach. For some reason all three of them decide that I'm the sturdiest one out of the three older ones and they all grab onto me for support. Max catches my gaze and rolls her eyes, holding in a laugh. I resist the urge to flip her the bird and then have to catch Angel when she almost totters over. When I look back at Max her hand was over her mouth. Angel reaches out and holds Max's hand, keeping her fingers in the pocket of my jeans.

Ig's hip bumps into me as the bus swayed over, and I apologize immediately.

Then he hits me again. I look up at him to see him looking innocently in the other direction. I narrow my eyes.

Then he hits me so hard I almost fall over on top of Gaz and Nudge. "Cut it out!" I say to him a little angrily.

He looks at me, confused. "Cut what out?" he asks.

I mutter under my breath and return to keeping an eye out for Erasers. His next bump is more like a shove. A few people mutter angrily.

"Ig-!" I was about to seriously chew him out when the driver's voice came over the PA system. Ig grins at me and I shoot him a death glare, which is wasted.

"Okay, people! Fifty-eighth Street! This is where the fun is!" says the bus driver, way too cheerfully. Max looks at me, startled – about what, I don't know. Maybe she forgot that she's the only one hearing voices. She then ushers us all off the bus quickly, and we all make it safely to the curb as the bus pulls away, making our noses crinkle in disgust. We're somewhere near Central Park.

"What –" Max says, then stops. She turns. We all turn around as well, and see a huge stone building with a large glass window. Inside the window is a teddy bear big enough to sleep on, a huge wooden soldier that is big enough to win a war all by itself, and a huge pink ballerina wearing enough tulle to make a ball gown.

The sign says AFO Schmidt.

The world's most amazing toy store.

So if you can imagine this. We'd never been in a toy store. Of any kind. Similar to the library, this place is huge. It's so amazingly over the top, a sensory overload. And it was the exact place that I would never be caught dead in. I can feel my stomach turn just at the thought of entering this kid world.

The door to this building is the size of me, Ig, and Gaz's room. That's how big I'm talking. When we enter, there's an immediate stuffed-animal-themed room that's the size of the E house.

Wow.

Gaz and Angel look like their personal heaven just arrived on their doorstep. Even Nudge looked a little awed of all the toys. I shifted away from a stuffed elephant that looked life-sized.

"Iggy," breathed Gaz, "there's a whole _room_ of Lego and Bionicle."

"Go with them," Max tells me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Anything to get away from the stuffed animals. "And let's keep an eye out for each other, okay?"

I nod and follow the boys into the Lego room. The very first thing I see, from between racks of Playmobil and action figures, is these two giant statues – a life-sized Darth Vader and Chewbacca made out of Legos. Completely and entirely from Legos. I can only stand there like an idiot, and Gaz looks like he just jumped inside a Star Wars movie.

"Holy cow," I say, half expecting the little boy next to me to reach for a lightsaber. "That's incredible."

"What?" Ig asks.

Gaz comes out of his trance. "Oh. My. God," he says, and grabs Ig's hand. "Come here. Right now." He drags the older boy over to the creations, describing them in an almost worshipful tone. I watch from a distance, just admiring those incredible things. There's even a white Lego on Chewie's nose to make it look like it's shiny.

What would truly impress me, though, would be a life-sized _Millennium Falcon_ made from Legos. But that would probably be about the size of Central Park, so. It would still be awesome.

"_Fang!"_

I whirl and see Max's panicked face over by the game boards. I quickly collect Ig and Gaz and steer them over to where Max is standing with Nudge. Over our heads is a huge clock playing "It's A Small World" very loudly and obnoxiously.

"Let's get out of here," Max mutters. "An Ouija board just told me to save the world."

"Gosh, you're, like, famous," says Gaz.

As weird as it is, I have other concerns. "Where's Angel?"

Max starts. She frowns and races back to the stuffed animal section, the rest of us following on her heels. She stops in front of a hanging chimpanzee and stares in shock.

Angel is talking to an older woman, maybe about fifty or sixty years old. Okay, not an Eraser. Angel's expression is sad, and she holds out a bear dressed as an angel in her hands to the woman, who looks a little dazed.

"What's she up…" I begin, because what I think is happening cannot be happening. No way no how.

"Someone's buying something for Angel," Ig says quietly. How did he know? He's blind!

It's obvious that we are watching her. Angel knows it, but she ignores us on purpose, pretending she doesn't know who we are. We follow her to the checkout counter in shock as the woman takes out her wallet with a confused look in her eyes. As the saleslady rings up the bear, the woman hands her a bill with shaking hands. Angel takes the bear happily and thanks the woman profusely, bouncing up and down on her heels with happiness. Then the lady leaves the store, still looking very bemused.

We join Angel on the other side of the counter, crowding around her and bombarding her with questions.

"What was that about?" Max demands. "Why did that woman buy you that bear? That thing cost _forty-nine dollars!"_

I whistled.

"What did you say to her?" Ig asks eagerly. I know what he's thinking, but we can't haul around that Chewbacca. "No one's buying _us_ stuff."

"Nothing," says Angel, clutching her bear to her chest. "I just asked that lady if she would buy me this bear, because I really, really wanted it and I didn't have enough money."

Max starts herding everyone out of the door quickly, before anyone else gets any ideas. Outside, it was clearly lunchtime. Too bad we used that money on the bus –and for what? This was just a waste of time. Nothing was accomplished, and the Institute was farther than ever now that our funds were down.

"So you just asked a stranger to buy you an expensive toy, and she did?" Max asks Angel skeptically.

Angel nods. Not meeting anyone's eyes, she smoothes down the bear's fur and arranges its dress. "Yeah. I just asked her to buy it for me. You know, _with my mind."_

**So has anyone here actually been to FAO Schwartz, the toy store mentioned in this book? Clever name change there, JP. I have. The Darth Vader and Chewbacca things were there when I went, which was about 4 years ago. I still remember them. They were the coolest things. Honestly that's about the only thing I remember about that place. :D Review for Angel's insane creepiness! O.o**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Hola. No one is reading this anymore, but I'll go ahead and finish it anyways – I'm a little more than 3/5 through it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride.**

I exchange a glance with Max, my creep-o-meter going off the charts.

"Um, what do you mean, exactly?" Max asks Angel, her voice slightly nervous. I glance at the rest of the flock, noticing worried frowns on Ig and Nudge's faces, although Gaz looks slightly awed.

"I just asked her, in my mind," Angel says nonchalantly, not even paying attention. She fluffs the bear's dress and straightens her little white wings delicately. "And she said okay. And she bought it for me. I'm going to call it Celeste."

"Angel, are you saying that you influenced that woman so she would buy you the bear?" Max asks, choosing her words carefully.

"Celeste," she corrects. "What's _influenced_?"

"To have an effect on something or someone," Max says patiently. "It sounds like you sort of _made_ that woman buy you the bear -"

"Celeste."

"_Celeste_, whether she wanted to or not. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Angel looked down, not liking being reprimanded. Then she shrugged and looked back at Max, her face innocent. "Well, I _really_ wanted Celeste. More than anything in the whole world."

Gaz looks even more awed, but Ig just looks exasperated. I can think of a whole lot of things I want more than a stuffed bear, but Max opens her mouth, and I cut her a glance. She nods and sweeps back her hair tiredly, just wanting to return to the mission.

We get falafel for lunch. I'm a bit disappointed that it's not a gyro, but it's pretty dang close, so I think I'll be able to manage. Gaz sighs wistfully when we start to walk away from the stand, but when I ask him what the matter is, he quickly shakes his head and looks away.

Max is still looking at Angel with concern. I resist rolling my eyes. Jeez, Max, the girl is _six_. She's not going to know better, even if she does act a little old for her age sometimes. She's the equivalent of a first-grader - if she sees something she wants, and has a way of getting it, then she's going to go ahead and get it.

Max sighs, polishing off her lunch and tossing the wrapper in a sidewalk trash can. She massages her head and frowns.

"I'm too old for toys," she mutters angrily.

I blink, taken aback. _What? Was Max jealous of Angel? Is that why she was so angry that Angel got the bear?_

"Did you want a toy?" Gaz asks, surprised.

Max shakes her head and clamps her lips together. I realize she's talking to the voice; _Good- I was worried there for a second…_

Max stares at her toes. It's funny that she thinks we don't notice her hands are shaking.

"We're surrounded," she mutters without looking up.

I do an automatic 360 next to her, feeling Ig's fingers drag all the way around my waist with the movement. Seeing nothing, I fall back into place and wait for her to elaborate.

"We're wasting time," she says, sounding frustrated. "We need to find the Institute. Discover our histories and destinies. We don't need to go to toy stores. We've got to get serious about this."

Not sure if she's talking to us or the Voice (again, I really wish she would elaborate!), I look at Nudge, walking behind me. She pauses in nibbling her falafel to meet my gaze, and grins self-consciously, flapping her fingers up and down in a little wave.

I turn back to Max and open my mouth. "Max, I -"

She holds up her finger, effectively silencing me. I felt my face morph into confusion and peer at her face to see her look like she's concentrating intensely.

The Voice again? Dear God, I wish she would tell us when she decides to talk to the voices in her head and ignore the rest of us out here in the real world.

"Of course I'm not relaxing! We need to find the Institute! We're running out of money! We're constantly in danger!"

Okay, yep, it's the voice. Either that or she's gone quietly senile. We all stop and stare at her.

"What's wrong, Max?" Gaz asks, sounding a little nervous of what his answer is going to be.

She takes a deep breath and Nudge moves in close, wrapping a brown hand around Max's filthy T-shirt. "I feel like I'm about to explode," Max admits. "Three days ago, Angel said she'd heard there was more info about us in a place called the Institute, in New York. _More info_. This could be what we've always wanted to know."

"'Cause we might find out about our parents?" Ig asks cautiously.

"Yes," Max answers. "But now we're here, and really weird things are happening, and I'm not sure -"

She abruptly stops talking, her head snapping up. All the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I realize it's been far too long since I did a visual sweep -

"_Hello, kids!"_

Right in front of us is a building, and the glass in the doors sure _looked_ solid, but I suppose that when an Eraser - or two - jumps through it then it'll probably break, cause that's what happens. Angel lets loose a shriek that makes Max grab her hand as we all decide it would be a great time to haul our feathery butts out of there. We wheel around and sprint down the sidewalk, Max and Angel in the lead with the rest of is in formation behind them.

_"CROSS!"_ Max yells, sprinting into the street. We weave between suddenly halting traffic, screeching tires and angry horns blaring in our wake. Directly behind us, a poor man on a bicycle isn't able to stop in time and collides with one of the Erasers, who is knocked out cold in the traffic. I don't look back to see how his body fared being run over.

"Bicycle messenger took an Eraser out!" I shout, and am rewarded with the faint sound of Max's laughter.

My eyes widen as I see it - the other Eraser must have circled around, because he suddenly leaps out from in front of a building, snatches up Max, tosses her over his shoulders like a sackapotatoes, and makes a break for it.

Angel screams bloody murder at the top of her voice and Ig scoops her up.

"GO, Fang!" he shouts. I don't waste energy nodding - instead, I pour on the speed, imagining liquid energy zooming through my veins.

Max is up there whaling on the guy, but it's like he's made out of wood - he doesn't react at all.

_COME ON, FANG, FASTER!_

People are jumping out of the way, confused and frightened expressions on their faces. "Stop them!" I yell, but my voice is drowned out.

Fear suddenly courses through me as I realize that they're outpacing me. I summon up every last reserve of strength and force my body to move faster.

_"FANG! !"_ Her voice carries back, the desperation audible from here. I run and run, but they're getting away - and suddenly, I can't see them anymore.

Panic flows through me, and I swear so loud that the woman next to me jumps. Finally I see Max - down on the ground, pinned under the Eraser, struggling. I snatch her hand and drag her to her feet, expecting her to run away with me, but she just stops and stares.

"Wait!" she says. "Fang - I think he's dead."

I stop in surprise. Looking from her to the Eraser, I nudge my boot against the body. It slumps over with the pressure that I put on it, but then goes right back to how it was. I kneel easily and press my fingers to it's pulse points, shocked when I can't detect any movement.

"You're right. He's dead." I stand and wipe the Eraser cooties off on my jeans. "What'd you _do_ to him?"

"Nothing. I was whaling on him, but it didn't do squat. Then he went down like a ton of bricks."

I glance sideways at her to see her staring in confusion down at the dead Eraser on the sidewalk. A bit of blood mats on her temple, but she doesn't seem to notice.

The rest of the flock arrives. Angel leaps into Max's arms, and suddenly she's surrounded by loving members of the flock, reassuring them that she's okay. I glance at the Eraser one more time, and something catches my eye. I kneel down and turn back the Eraser's collar. Max's eyes follow my movement, and we both see a tattoo on the back of his neck.

11-00-07.

A cop car pulls up, and we hastily stand and pull back into the crowd. "Crazy drug addict!" I toss out before we turn and beat it, walking quickly down the sidewalk and away from the scene of the crime. Max clutches Angel's hand, reassuring the sniffing smaller girl.

I notice that her free hand is shaking and long to slip mine inside of it. Instead, Gaz comes up and holds my hand. I look at him and squeeze his little fingers, and he smiles hugely at me and squeezes back.

My mind returns to the Eraser's tattoo: 11-00-07. "So he was five years old," I say quietly.

Max nods. "Made in November, year 2000, number seven of a batch. They're not lasting too long, are they?"

How long would _we_ last? I glance at Ig, laughing with Nudge, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Her eyes are closed in amusement, and her body is half-twisted around, a smile stretched across her lips. Suddenly her foot catches on a lip on the sidewalk, and she stumbles, her eyes wide before Ig catches her. She turned back to him, blushing and laughing once more.

Would this ever have to end?

Max suddenly bends down, so quietly that we all nearly walk right past her. She straightens with something in her hand, frowning and sweeping a piece of hair behind her ear. Looking up, she sees me and tugs on my sleeve, showing me the thing in her hand.

It's a bank card, and my eyes widen at the name stamped on the front: MAXIMUM RIDE.

"I can use it if I can figure out the password," she breathes.

I nod hesitantly. "Okay."

She tucks the card into her pocket. "Let's just get to the park," she says shallowly. "Nice, safe Central Park."

As we walk, I mull over the card. What a coincidence - first that she happened to find a _bank card_, and second - that it had HER name on it? How was that even possible?

Someone knew that we were going to be walking along there then. Somehow, someone knew and planted that card there.

I glanced at Max, her eyes lighting up as we rounded the corner and entered the park. Could it be the Voice? Was it feeding the whitecoats information about us?

We glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then shimmied quickly into a large tree, not wanting to pull out the ol' wings – _those_ were attention-catchers if nothing else was.

"How can the Voice know where I am and what I can see?" Max whispers to me as we settle in. I glance down at the ground, but we're practically forty feet in the air, so I don't think anyone will hear us.

"It's inside you," I say, trying to hide my distrust by settling back and letting a nonchalant look pass over my face. "It's wherever you are. If it's tapped into any of your senses, it knows where you are and what you're doing."

Her face falls.

"Uh, but that's just a guess," I say quickly, but she doesn't seem to hear me.

"Even in the bathroom?" Gaz says, sounding suddenly interested. Nudge brings the heel of her hand to her mouth to hide a smile, her eyes crinkling in amusement. Max glares dramatically at the baby-eyed boy. Behind them, Angel was fixing up her bear – Celeste – like she was getting it ready for bed. Iggy was already passed out on the branch, his mouth wide open. A soft, rattling snore issued from the cavern.

Max takes out the bank cards, comparing them. She then sighs and sticks the old one deep into the tree, feeling back about stealing any more from the jerk, even though he was, well, a jerk.

"So we need to figure out the password," she says blearily, rubbing her eyes. She puts the new card into her pocket and touches her head gingerly, in the spot where it had been bleeding earlier. She yawns and holds out her left fist.

I shook Iggy awake, and he blinks in surprise, then looks a little remorseful when he realizes that he was asleep when he should have stayed up to do the fist-bumping ritual. I splay my fingers over her fist, letting the rest stack their hands on top. Angel even manages to fit Celeste's furry white paw in there somewhere. We tap hands and then settle back in the tree again.

I'm asleep before a single thought can cross my mind.

**See you all next chap! RnR :D**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Hai gais :D I only have 2 in-progress stories right now and so the updates will probably be faster .. Sorry this one is so short, but the ending felt right. Bear with me, y'all.**

**In other words, I can bitch to the 2 people that are reading this. My favorite band was coming to my state (we were gonna drive 2 hours) and the morning of the concert, i.e. yesterday AM, I was informed that the concert was canceled. CANCELED! I was looking forward to that shit for 2 months gaiz! Plus, my show was the only one that got booted, so...Jordan Witzigreuter, your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! Mickey Mouse *^&$% with a stick of dynamite %&#* in a castle far far away where no one will ever find her! May France and Italy from Hetalia be always following you and may the odds be NEVER in your favor!**

**Just kidding. He's too hot for all that stuff.**

**But speaking of the Hunger Games (which was awesome btw...) wanna hear my new song? :D It goes like this: "When I walk out the shop, this is what I see. Katniss Everdeen is staring at me! I got some bread in my hands and I ain't afraid to throw it, throw it, throw it...I'm Peeta and I know it!" Been annoying all my friends to death over the past week...**

**...ahem. I have a fever so you'll have to excuse me. **

**Disclaimer: Maximum Ride belongs to a 70 year-old.**

_"It is unlawful to climb trees in Central Park,_" comes a loud and irritating voice, making me shoot from sleep to awareness with a painful accuracy.

My eyes shoot open and meet Max's wide ones. Simultaneously, we look down to see a cop car parked below us, lights flashing, the whole shebang. I rolled my eyes. Seriously?

"How did they even know we were up here?" Gaz complains. "Who looks up into a tree?"

I hide a grin behind my hand and return my attention to the ground. A cop in a uniform was standing at the base of the tree, holding some kind of PA gadget to her mouth. "It is unlawful to climb trees in Central Park," she repeats, sounding a little irritated. "Please come down at once."

Max groans, bummed that we can't just jump down and we actually have to pretend to be slightly normal. "Okay, guys," she says, "get down, try to look _normal._ When we're on the ground, we'll make a run for it. If we get separated, connect up at, like, Fifty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue. _Comprende?"_

We all nod. I'm the first down the tree, sliding down it like a firehouse pole, hating the way the bark sticks to my jeans, catching on the fabric and snapping with tiny chinks. Ig comes down next, and I know that the almost grace with which we move isn't normal for teenage boys, but that's okay. They can't arrest us for being too agile.

When I get to the ground, Ig landing lightly next to me, a pompous male cop strides over. "Gentlemen, do you know why we're standing here right now?"

"Uh...because you got all C's in high school?" I glance up into the tree, watching Max safely make in to the ground behind Gaz, Nudge and Angel.

"There are signs posted everywhere clearly stating that climbing trees is forbidden," the cop sputters, trying to regain some of his pompousness. So focused is he that he fails to notice us slowly backing away, inch by inch.

"Are you runaways?" asked the female cop, coming back over. "We'll take you somewhere. You can make phone calls, call your folks."

Another cruiser pulls up, filling the awkward silence with noise from the engine. The doors open, and two more cops climb out.

"They brought all these people out here just for us?" I mutter to Ig. "I'm honored."

The female cop's walkie-talkie buzzed, and she glanced away from us to pull it out.

"Now!" Max whisper-shouts, and the six of us scatter away from there, making the female cop look up in surprise and drop her walkie-talkie.

"Celeste!" Angel suddenly cries out, and Max whirls around to grab the youngest flock member as she tries to go back for her stuffed bear. Max yells at Angel and scoops her up, fleeing despite the younger girl's attempts to struggle. Quick footsteps alert me to Max' presence, and I reach out in time to snatch Angel from the air without missing a beat.

"Celeste!" Angel cries, reaching back over my shoulder desperately. "Celeste!" She sounds so heartbroken that I almost wanted to...well, I don't know but it made me want to do something, anything.

"I'll get you another one!" Max promises rashly from next to me. I almost laugh at that. Yeah, with what money?

"I don't want another one!" she wails, the end of her sentence muffled as she buries her face in my jacket (I still hadn't gotten a shirt) and sobs her little heart out.

"Have we lost 'em?" Gaz calls from ahead of us, tossing the words over his shoulder. Max glances back, and despair crosses her face.

"No!" she yells back.

"We're going to have to fix that, then," I murmur to her, and I swear I see her almost smile at that.

We rip up the pavement headed south and east, still not able to lose the cops. Irritation is beginning to course through me; I set down Angel and she keeps pace next to me, her hand in mine, her eyes puffy and her cheeks wet. Ig Is running beside Max, his fingertips brushing her, and Nudge and Gaz are in the lead.

We pass Fifty-fourth, and we still haven't lost 'em.

Max begins to slow a little, a familiar expression of frustration settling over her features. I pull Angel up next to her, and we continue to run, just not quite as fast. "Inside a store?" I suggest. "Then out through a back exit?"

"Yeah, maybe so," Max says back. "Let's turn east on Fifty-first."

We do so, skidding around a corner and down what I realize is a convenient one-way street. Good, the cops would have to detour around - but we still wouldn't have much time. We needed to think, and think fast; find somewhere to catch a collective breath before continuing our search.

"What's _that?"_ Nudge asks, stopping abruptly and levitating a finger at the building before us.

Max stops so quickly she trips over her own feet and almost falls flat on her face. Recovering, she glares up at the building, which is gray and spidery, almost as though it was stone lace. Gems of stained glass twinkle from various alcoves like dew.

"Is it a museum?" Gaz asks.

"No," Max says, her gaze focused on a sign. Squinting her eyes to see it better, she adds, "It's Saint Patrick's cathedral. It's a church."

"A church!" Nudge is practically bouncing. "I've never been in one. Can we go?"

And yep, folks, that right there is the extent of our religious exposure.

Max bites her lip, about to reprimand Nudge for something-or-other, but I don't want to hear it. An idea pops into my mind, and I speak before she can. "Sanctuary," I say quietly, and watch the wheels turning in her mind as she turns over my idea.

"Okay, fine," she says. Nudge cheers and begins to skip up the steps, but Max grabs her back and pulls us all into a circle.

"All right, guys, I know we've never done this before, but...please, try to stay calm and respectful, okay? Don't act like hooligans." She eyes Nudge as she says this, and the younger girl pretends to be affronted.

"Hooligans? Us?" Nudge scoffs. "'Course not, Maxie-pants."

Max smiles and ruffles her hair. "All right, then, 's long as we're clear. Go on!" She steps back, and the circle dissolves, the six of us attempting to merge with the crowd.

We pass the doors, which are bigger than my life, and enter the lobby of the cathedral. The ceiling spreads above us, stretching and curving.

Some people are gathering for a guided tour, which is the opposite of what we want, while others are just milling about and reading plaques and such. Up towards the front, some more people are sitting with heads bowed on fisted hands, on their knees.

It's so quiet... It's relaxing. I glance at Ig and see him let out a breath; a smile stretching across his stressed face. Away from the noise barrier of the outside street, I guess he finally knew where he was.

Well, I guess if we survived this Iggy could always come back and find his calling... I shake my head. No, no way he was ever coming back to this city.

"Let's go up there," Max says softly, inclining her head toward the front. The six of us pad quietly to the front rows and file into a pew, unfolding the blue velvet...knee bench thing.

"This place is awesome," Gaz breathes, his neck straining as he gazes up at the stained glass windows. Nudge's jaw is about to fall off.

"What are those people doing?" Angel whispers, gesturing to all the people in the church near us.

"I think they're praying," Max whispers back.

"Let's pray too," Angel says decisively, a little too loudly.

"Uh-"

Angel slid down so that all he weight was resting on her knees on the bench and her toes on the floor. Glancing around, she clasped her hands together and rested her forehead on them, closing her eyes.

We all eased into the same position as her. Sandwiched between Max and Gaz, I put my own hands down on the wooden pew and closed my eyes, thinking.

"What are we praying for?" Ig asks.

"Um - anything you want?" Max guesses.

"We're praying to God, right?" Nudge says, her voice uncertain.

"I think that's the general idea."

"Okay, then," Nudge murmurs, and then clears her throat as though she is making a speech. "Dear God," she says under her breath, "I want real parents. But I want them to want me too. I want them to love me. I already love _them_. Please see what you can do. Thanks very much. Love, Nudge."

_...Dear God..._

"Please get Celeste back to me," Angel says, her voice thick. "And help me grow up to be like Max. And keep everyone safe. And do something bad to the bad guys. They should not be able to hurt us anymore."

_...if you're really out there..._

"I want to be able to see stuff," Ig says, his voice concentrated. "Like I used to, when I was little. And I want to be able to totally kick Jeb's butt. Thank you."

_...and if you're listening..._

"God, I want to be big and strong," Gaz says, his voice serious. "So I can help Max, and other people too."

_...then please..._

I can hear Max breathing slowly, shallowly, listening to the quiet around her. I can hear my heart thumping in my ears.

_...help us be free from our pasts..._

"Please help Angel find Celeste." Max's voice is low, wobbly, but determined.

._..help us understand why Jeb left us and betrayed us..._

"And help me be a better leader, a better person," she says, so quietly I can almost not hear her.

_...help Iggy one day be able to see again..._

"Make me braver, stronger, smarter."

_...help the Gasman not have to be so brave and tough all the time..._

"Help me take care of the flock."

_...help Nudge be able to someday live a normal life..._

"Help me find some answers."

_...help Angel come to terms with her crazy powers..._

"Uh, thanks."

_...help Max realize that she doesn't have to do it all on her own..._

She clears her throat, and we settle into silence once more.

_...Amen._

_...Oh, and God? By the way, if you have any spare shirts handy, just...don't hesitate to send them my way, okay?_

_Amen. _

**Short, but I felt like it needed to be ended there. :D**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: So I told you the updates would be quicker! Yeah :D I'm proud of myself. WE'RE ALMOST TO 200 REVIEWS! I'm so excited :)**

**By the way, I don't know if anyone here likes/reads/watches the anime/manga **_**Bleach**_**, but if you do, I write for that fandom too, so you should check out the stuff! **

**Disclaimer: JP is not me.. so I am not him, and since he owns the books then obviously I don't!**

We sit in silence for what seems like hours. I feel like a sleepy kid on a school morning, not wanting to get up, leave this place of warmth and comfort.

Finally Max raises her head. "Should we –" She winces and falls silent, her hands leaving the pew to clutch her skull. I watch her anxiously, waiting for her to take a deep breath and open her eyes, cringing at the light in the cathedral and the worried expressions on our faces.

"Can you walk?" I ask her in a low voice.

She nods, and so we all stand and beat it out of there, walking as quickly as we can behind a group of Japanese tourists who can't stop taking pictures. As soon as we make it away from the crowd, she stops and rounds in on us.

"I saw Thirty-first Street, in my head," she says. "And a bunch of numbers." Well, thanks for clearing that up, Max…

"Which means…" Ig prompts, gesturing for her to keep going.

She bites her lip and avoids our eyes, staring fixedly at a crack in the sidewalk. "I don't know," she admits. "Maybe the Institute is on Thirty-first Street?"

"That would be nice," I say sarcastically. "East or west?"

"I don't know."

"Did you see anything else?" I urge.

"Well, a bunch of numbers," she repeats. "And a tall, kind of greenish building."

"We should just walk all the way down Thirty-first Street." Nudge is starting to get excited again. "The whole way, looking for that building. Right? I mean, if that's the building you saw, maybe it was for a good reason. Or did you see a whole lot of buildings, or a whole city, or what?"

I groan inwardly. Trust Nudge to make everything complicated. Thankfully, Max says "Just that building," and relief floods me. The feeling is temporary; soon being overrun by my nerves. My hands are shaking, my ears buzzing. On one hand, we were maybe about to find out about who we were, and God knows that we all wanted that more than anything. On the other hand, it felt like we were basically poking a sleeping dragon, knowing that if it woke up it would turn into a bunch of whitecoats and start experimenting on us again. And God knows that that is the last thing we want.

We start to walk again. Conveniently, as we pass a vendor selling Polish sausage, Gaz says, "So do we have money? I hope?"

"Maybe," Max says, digging in her pocket and coming up with the bank card. "What do you think?" she asks me, turning it so that it catches the light. "Should we try this?"

"Well, we need money, for sure," I say, unable to take my eyes of the glinting gold card. "But it might be a trap, a way for them to track where we are and what we're doing."

"Yeah." Max frowns and then falls into silence. Shaking her head, she takes a deep breath and swerves over to an ATM, the rest of us trailing uncertainly behind her. She punches in a passcode (with her middle finger, remember?) and we all hold our breath, letting out a disappointed sigh when it beeps in error at us.

She then tries our ages. I swivel around and watch the crowd, keeping an eye out, not wanting to see her disappointed face as she fails again and again.

Finally, the machine shuts down and beeps a couple more times. Gaz lets out a really disappointed-sounding sigh, glancing longingly at a vendor behind us. I shake my head fondly as Max spins on her heel and marches off to the next machine.

"What about, like, the first initial of all of our names?" Gaz suggests.

"Maybe it's something like 'givememoney,'" Nudge says solemnly.

Max smiles at her. "It has to be shorter than that."

At the next machine, she punches in the first initials of our names: MFINGA. I frown. Does it have to be in that order? I wonder. In my head, I rearrange the letters, then almost fall over in surprise when I realize that they can be rearranged to spell out I'M FANG.

Like a _boss._

She drags us to three more ATMs before stopping in frustration, shaking her head. "I don't know what to do," she admits, sounding surprised at herself for even saying those words.

Angel looks up tiredly, sadly. "Why don't you try 'mother'?" she asks, her voice dejected.

"Why do you think that?" Max asks, watching the younger girl trace a crack in the sidewalk with the toe of her sneaker. Angel shrugs, her arms moving to hold her little bear and then falling emptily at her sides.

I glance at Max, shrugging. What had we got to lose? If they were trying to track us, then we'd given them enough of a lead with our wandering from machine to machine. She turned to the ATM and swiped the card, slowly and accurately punching the numbers. I held my breath, keeping my eyes on Max's face, which was suddenly flooded with shock.

Quickly, I looked at the screen.

**W**HAT KIND OF TRANSACTION DO YOU WANT TO MAKE?

Speechless, Max takes out $200 and folds it carefully into her pocket. We move speedily away from the machine.

"How did you know that?" I ask Angel, struggling to keep my voice under control.

Angel shrugs again, her whole body drooping. "It just came to me," she says quietly.

"In a voice?" Max asks warily, and I glance at her.

Angel shakes her head. "The word was just in my head. I don't know why."

Max looks back at me, this time, and worry is clear in her eyes. I know what she's thinking. When Angel was at the school for those few days, what exactly had they done to her?

We turn onto Thirty-first Street. I feel like I've just drank a Grande from Starbucks, infused with extra caffeine. All my senses are hyperaware, and nerves are making me feel a bit nauseous. Did I really even care about my parents? I mean, my mom… I swallow hard.

We walk and walk, examining the buildings and glancing at Max for confirmation. With every shake of her head, we become wound tighter and tighter, and everyone knows what Nudge does when she's nervous.

"I wonder what the Institute is like," she says, sounding jittery. "I guess it's like the School. Will we have to break in? How do they hide the Erasers from all the normal people? What kind of files do you think they have? Like actual parent names, you think?"

"For God's sake, Nudge, my ears are bleeding!" As demonstrated, when Iggy gets nervous he gets mean.

Max puts her arms around Nudge's shoulders as her face droops. "I know you're worried," she says, "I am too."

Nudge smiles at Max, but it's lost on her. The older girl stops, staring up at a building in front of her. I look too, my eyes taking in a tall, old-fashion-y, greenish building.

"Is this it?" Ig asks, feeling Gaz stop.

"Yep," Max says, trying to sound strong. "Are we ready?"

"Aye, Captain!" Ig shouts, and salutes her firmly. She rolls her eyes as we march up the stairs and push through shiny gold revolving doors and into the dark-wood lobby filled with obnoxious tropical plants. A woman is seated at a desk on one end, typing rapidly on her laptop; across the way a security guard was also seated with his feet propped up, munching on Dunkin' Donuts.

"Here." I gesture to a directory near the wall, listing each business housed in the 45 story building. We walk over and scan the sign.

There is no Institute for Higher Living, or any institutes of any kind.

Well, that was rather anticlimactic. I feel all the adrenaline rush from my system. Gaz deflates like a balloon; thank god he didn't feel the need to actually let out the air.

Max walks over to the woman receptionist, who looks up, an irritated expression passing over her face. "Excuse me," Max says politely, "are there any other companies in this building that aren't on the board?"

"No," says the receptionist shortly, and goes back to typing. All of us now irritated, we turn and make to walk out when the lady makes a sound of surprise. Max stops and turns back, so I did too.

The lady's computer screen has cleared. Where once there was something that I'm sure was incredibly important, there is now a message in big red letters. _There's A Pot of Gold Beneath Every Rainbow,_ it says, before the message breaks up.

The woman can only stare at her computer in shock while Max looks into the distance with a calculating expression on her face. "Does this building have a basement?" she asks.

The lady looks us over again, harder this time. "Who are you? What do you want?" she asks angrily. She lifts her chin and catches the eye of the burly security guard, who swings his legs down from the desk and wipes his mouth.

"Never mind," Max mutters angrily. She herds us towards the doors, and as we get through and the guard catches up, she jams a ballpoint pen into the door and the guard smashes into the glass.

We hit the ground running. Lungs burning, we raced for a couple of blocks before slowing and checking for cops or anything.

Without warning, Gaz turns and punches a mailbox. "This _sucks!_" he shouts. "Nothing ever goes right! We get hassled everywhere! Max's head is busted, Angel lost Celeste, we're all hungry – I hate this! I hate everything!"

Shock passes fleetingly across my face. Max picks her jaw up from the floor and goes over to Gaz, putting her hand on his shoulder, but he pushes her away and bursts into tears. Shifting uncomfortably as the rest of the flock gathers around, I turn away. Max steps forward and gathers him up into her arms, smoothing his hair back from his forehead and resting her head on top of his, just holding him tightly. It's so sweet, I think I'm going to get diabetes.

"I'm sorry, Gazzy," she murmurs. "You're right. This has really sucked. I know it's hard sometimes. Listen, what would make you feel better right now?"

He sniffs and straightens, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Really?" he asks, sounding very small.

"Really."

"Well, I just want – I just want to, like, sit down somewhere and eat a lot of food. Not just get food while we're walking. I want to _sit down_ and _rest_ and _eat."_

Max looks solemnly at him. "I think that can be arranged."

* * *

"This looks _great!"_

Gaz is so excited he's nearly hopping up and down, Nudge style. Just looking at it is making me paranoid.

We're standing outside a restaurant, called Garden Tavern. It's big, flashy, expensive-looking and very conspicuous. It's the kind of place that you dress up for, bring the whole family, have a wine list longer than the actual menu. And this is where Gaz wanted to eat.

I glance at Max. She's grinding her teeth, but she can't complain. She promised him anything he wanted, and this is what he wanted, and now she's stuck with it.

"Uh, okay," she says. I step forward and pull open the door, heavy and solid.

"Whoa," says Nudge.

Three rooms are visible from the reception area where we're standing, each more extravagant than the last. The first is the Prism Room, which is basically dripping with crystals. We'd end up breaking something for sure, and I cross my fingers that we won't get put there. The second room is the Garden Room, which is basically a richie version of the Rainforest Café. And the last room was the Castle Room, which is regal-looking and has an open fireplace big enough for Hansel, Gretel _and_ the witch. All three have ceilings that soar above us, similar to Saint Patrick's Cathedral, but somehow less impressive and awesome.

"May I help you?" asks a blond woman with the body of a supermodel. She smiles at us and then looks to see who we're there with. "Are you waiting for your parents?"

"No," Max says sweetly. "There's just us. Can we have a table for six, please? I'm treating everybody with my birthday money." She smiles sweet enough to give me a cavity.

"Um, okay," says the hostess, and leads us to a table in the Castle Room. Too close to the fire, in my opinion. Well, if we get attacked by Erasers I guess they can add roast wolf to the menu.

The hostess passes us menus; large, fancy, mostly just for decoration. "Jason will be your server today," she says, giving us one more uncertain glance as we scramble into our seats with the ungainly air of pigs in a king's court, before leaving.

"Max, this is so, so great," Nudge gushes, opening her enormous menu. "This is the nicest place we've ever eaten!"

Miserably, I begin to read off things to Ig, who is looking just as awful as me and Max. The younger three are so happy it's like someone had announced that Christmas would now be twice a year. Us older kids know better. This place is too crowded. We stick out like the pink patch on the butt of Nudge's blue jeans. And it's so _loud._

"Are you waiting for your parents?" Case in point - our waiter, Jason, had arrived and I hadn't even noticed. He now stood next to Iggy, with a pad in his hand. I didn't miss the fact that he was a ginger with half a bottle of grease in his hair.

"No, there's just us," Max says.

He frowns a little bit and gives us a once-over. "Ah. Are you ready to order?"

"Anyone know what they want?" Max asks the table in general.

Gaz looks up. "How many chicken tenders are on a plate?" he asks innocently.

A pained expression crosses Jason's face. "I believe there are four."

"I better have two orders, then," Gaz says decisively. "And this fruit cocktail. And two glasses of milk."

"Two orders for yourself?" Jason asks disbelievingly.

"With fries. To start." Gaz nods.

"I want a hot-fudge sundae," Angel says eagerly.

"Real food first," Max says with a little frown. "You need fuel."

"Okay." Angel agrees readily, then blinks and looks at Jason. "We're not spoiled rich brats," she told him peaceably. "We're just hungry."

Jason jumps, then looked uncomfortable. Angel didn't notice; she returned to her menu. "I want this prime rib thing," she says, reading the list. "And all this stuff that goes with it. And a soda. And lemonade."

"The prime rib is sixteen ounces," Jason says, sounding irritated. "It's a _pound_ of meat."

"Uh-huh," Angel says, wondering what he's getting at.

"She can handle it," Max says, trying to hurry it along. "She's a big eater. Nudge? What do you want?"

"The lasagna primavera," Nudge says, still scanning the menu. "I might need two. It comes with salad, right? And bread? Some milk. Okay?" She glances at Max for confirmation, and Max nods reassuringly.

Jason just stands there like he doesn't know what to do with himself. "Two lasagnas?"

"You might want to start writing this stuff down," Max suggests, waiting until he's written down everyone's orders before telling him what she wants. "I'll start with the shrimp cocktail. Then the maple-glazed roast pork loin, with the cabbage and potatoes and everything. The house salad with bleu cheese dressing. And a lemonade and an iced tea."

Jason writes it all down as if he's enduring an hour-long eye poke.

"The lobster bisque," I say, scanning the menu. "Then the prime rib. A big bottle of water."

"The spaghetti and meatballs," Ig says.

"That's on the children's menu," says the waiter impatiently. "For our patrons twelve and under."

Ig looks ticked off.

"How about the rack of lamb?" Max says quickly, trying to salvage the situation and save the man from Ig's awful temper. "It comes with potatoes and spinach, and a merlot-rosemary sauce."

"Fine, okay," Ig says, his irritation clear in his voice. "Plus a couple glasses of milk and some bread."

Jason doesn't even write it down. He just lowers his pad and stares at us. "This is a great deal of food for just the six of you," he says. "Maybe you've over ordered."

"I understand your concern," Max says, a hint of frustration showing through her voice as she struggled to keep up her polite façade. "But it's okay. Just bring it, please."

"You'll have to pay for all of it, whether you eat it or not."

"Yeah, that's _usually_ how a restaurant works." Her words are slow and exaggerated, as if she's talking to a cranky three-year-old.

"This is going to really add up," he persists.

"I _get_ it," Max says, finally letting her anger get the best of her. "I _get _the concept. Food costs _money. Lots_ of food costs _lots_ of money. Just bring us what we ordered. Please."

Jason glares and walks away toward the kitchen on stiff legs.

"I love this place," I say with a straight face.

"Did we order too much?" Angel asks, worried.

"No," Max reassures her. "It's fine. I guess they're not used to hearty eaters."

An underling brings us some bread and olive oil, setting them skeptically down on the table. Anger rises inside me as she leaves and a man with a suit and tie appears beside Max, Jason at his elbow.

"Good afternoon," he says politely.

"Hello…?" Max says warily.

"I am the manager. Is there something I can help you with?" he asks pleasantly. I roll my eyes. Wow, we're special enough to bring out the manager?

"Well, I don't think so," Max says, obviously confused. "Unless the kitchen is out of something we ordered."

"Yes, well," says the manager, a vein throbbing in his temple. "You seem to have ordered an unusual quantity of food. We wouldn't want you to be wasteful with it, or present you with a shocking bill because your eyes were bigger than your stomachs." The laugh he gives is as artificial as a cherry lollipop.

"Well, that is just so sweet of you. But we're pretty hungry. It seems like we should just order and get what we ordered, you know?"

"Perhaps you would be happier in some other restaurant," the manager says, struggling to keep a patient face. "Broadway is nearby."

"No freaking _duh,"_ Max snaps."But we're _in_ this one and we're _hungry._ Now, I have the money, and we brought our appetites with us; are you going to give us what we ordered or not?"

The manager's face twists. _"Not,_ I believe," he says, signaling to a security guy. Max groans and robs her forehead.

"This is stupid," Ig says furiously. "Let's just split. Gasser, we'll go somewhere that isn't run by Nazis, okay?"

"Okay," says Gaz uncertainly.

Angel looks at the manager with wide eyes. "Jason thinks you're full of hot air and that you smell like a sissy," she says innocently. "And what's a _himbo?"_

Jason turns red and chokes. The manager turns to glare at him.

"Fine," Max says, throwing down her napkin and pushing back her chair violently so that it falls with a bang. "We're going. The food's probably lousy here, anyway."

It's around that time that the cops show up.

They just can't get enough of us today, apparently.

I look around; all the entrances and exits are blocked by the boys in blue. Reluctantly, I realize that the only way out is up. "Up and away," I say, not bothering to keep my voice down, and Max nods. Gaz looks excited, grinning.

"Right, kids," says a female cop, weaving her way through astonished diners, "you have to come with us. We'll call your folks down at the station."

Jason smiles smugly, sending Max over the top. She snatches up the bowl of olive oil, overturning it on his ginger, greasy head. His mouth opens in shock as the dressing streaks down his face.

Max throws down the bowl and jumps on a chair, to the table, and snapping out her wings, soaring above the heads of the onlookers. Angel joins her next, followed by Ig, Gaz, and Nudge. I make sure that Max isn't looking and then raise my middle finger with feeling to Jason's shocked face, before opening my own wings and joining the others.

"Jerk!" Gaz yells, and pelts the manager with bits of bread. I circle the ceiling, not wasting my time laughing at the dumbstruck people in the restaurant below, searching for a way out.

"Up here!" I yell, pointing to a stained-glass panel in the ceiling.

"Come on, guys!" Max says. I look down – and see flashes going off from cameras. SHIT. _"Let's go!"_

I duck my head, cover it with my arms, and give a powerful swoop with my wings, straight up towards the stained glass. It shatters beneath me, leaving shallow cuts all over my arms and glittery dust in my hair and on my wings, and I shoot straight up into the sky.

The rest of the flock soon follows, one after another, through the hole that I made and out into the foggy afternoon.

"To the trees," Max says, and I nod and wheel around in a circle north.

"Dang it," Gaz says dejectedly. The three of us boys are in the front, with the girls a little bit behind us, out of earshot.

"It's okay," Ig says loudly. "He was an asshole, anyway."

Gaz grins delightedly, like he does whenever Ig or I swear.

We drop down in a tall maple tree, breathing hard from excitement.

"That went well," I say conversationally, brushing off my shoulders. I bend over and ruffle my hair, watching glass dust fall from it with interest.

"It was my fault," mumbles Gaz. He has chocolate on his face. When did he get chocolate? Why was I not offered any? "I'm the one who wanted to go there."

"It was their fault, Gazzy." Max reassures him. "I bet those weren't even real cops. They had an eau de School air about them."

"You didn't think before you dumped the olive oil on the waiter, did you?" I ask, earning myself a glare.

"I'm still…" Nudge lets her voice trail off. Thank you, Nudge, for growing a brain; now is not the time to mention your hunger.

"People were taking pictures," Ig says.

"Yeah," Max agrees miserably. "As an unqualified disaster, this ranks right up there."

"_And it's getting worse," _says a smooth, gravelly voice.

I jump and look down. My heart picks up a pace as I see what's down there on the ground.

Our tree is surrounded by Erasers. And get this! One of them is Ari.

This is one of those moments that's so awful that you kind of have a large desire to laugh at the horrible irony of your life.

"You keep showing up like a bad penny," Max says jauntily.

"I was about to say the same thing about you," Ari replies with a crooked smile. And not the crooked, lovely, attractive smile of Edward the Meyerpire. An awful, chills-down-your-spine crooked smile.

"I remember back when you were three years old," Max says with fake cheer. "You were so cute – before you got huge and wolfy."

"Like you ever paid attention to me," he says, his voice coated with sincere bitterness. "I was trapped in that place too, but you shut me out."

Max's jaw drops. "But you were normal," she blurts. "And Jeb's son."

Fuel on the fire. "Yeah, Jeb's son," Ari snarls. "Like he even knows I'm alive! What did you think happened to me while you were off playing house with _my_ father? Did you think I just disappeared?"

"Okay, there's _one_ knot unraveled," I mutter under my breath.

"Ari, I was ten years old," Max says, sounding like she's trying to understand. "Is all this back history why you're tracking us now? Why you're trying to _kill_ us?"

Ari spits on the ground. "Of course not. I'm tracking you 'cause that's my job. The back history is helping me enjoy it."

Max flips him off.

Ari grins and begins to morph, his smile stretching, breaking in half like a dog's. He pulls one furry, taloned hand – one furry, taloned _paw_ – from behind his back and shows us what he's holding.

"Celeste!" Angel cries, and begins to scramble down the tree. At the same time, Max and I yell, _"Angel, no!" _and _"Stay put!"_ But she ignores us and jumps lightly to the ground. The second her feet touch the grass, the Erasers behind Ari start to move forward, but Ari holds them back. All their eyes are glued to Angel.

Ari shakes the bear in his hand, like he's playing with a puppy, and Angel steps forward. Max is on the ground in a heartbeat, making the Erasers surge forward again; but again, Ari holds them back.

"Touch her and I'll kill you," Max vows, fisting her hands.

Ari smirks and shakes Celeste once more.

"Give me the bear," Angel says, her voice dark and more than a little bit creepy. Ari, however, just laughs, and Angel starts to take another step before Max grabs her collar.

"Give. Me. The. Bear." Angel's voice sounds strange, not like herself at all. Her blue eyes are locked on Ari's wolfy ones, and as I watch, his smile slips off of his face like melted butter, and his whole face looks confused.

"You're –" Ari stops, seeming to choke, and his hand goes to his throat. "You're –"

Is she now Darth Vader?

"Drop the bear _now,_" Angel says, her voice dead.

Without his permission, the clawed hands struggle open, and the bear falls to the ground. Quick as a wink, Angel darts forward, grabs it, and then is back up in the tree with us.

A second later, the Erasers spring into action, but Ari holds them back yet again, his face half irritated and half surprised.

"You have your orders!" he – literally – barks at the rest of the Erasers as one crashes into his arm. "Don't ever question them!" He turns and looks back at Max, still talking to the team, but staring right at her. "You can't question them. Even if they seem stupid. Even if you'd rather just rip the flock apart."

One of the Erasers makes a hungry-sounding noise that makes the hair on the back of my neck rise.

Ari leans in close to Max, who freezes. My whole body goes tense. "Your day is coming, bird girl," he whispers in her ear. "And I'm going to finish you off myself."

"Don't sharpen your fangs just yet, dog boy."

Ari narrows his eyes and opens his mouth as if he's going to say more, but then he tenses and presses a long finger to his ear as if listening to an implanted headpiece. "The Director wants to see us," he says to his team, backing away from Max. "Now!"

And just like that, they were gone.

Max rejoins us in the tree, looking harried and stressed. She settles down and leans back with a sigh, closing her eyes.

"I heard them mention the Director at the School," Nudge says. "Who is it?"

Max shrugs. "Some big, very bad person." She tries to look nonchalant, but I can see the worry eating away at her eyes.

"You okay?" Ig asks tensely, his hands gripping the branch tightly, making his knuckles go white. Max stretches out her boot and gives him a gentle tap on the shin with her toe.

"Hunky-dory," she says. "But I want to get out of here right now."

We all stretch and then take flight again, soaring above the now-dark city before settling on the top floor of a skeletal apartment building, still under construction. Ninety stories up, it's as close to sleeping while flying as we'll probably ever get. As soon as we get there, Angel, Nudge and Max split to grab some groceries at a grocery down the street, leaving us three boys alone in the apartment.

"God, what a day," Ig says, lying back on the plywood floor and folding his hands behind his head.

"I know, right?" Gaz says cheerfully. "We got chased by cops, like, three times! That's got to be some kind of record, guys!"

"I feel like I'm on a TV show," I say tiredly. "This stuff doesn't happen in real life, right?"

"Apparently, it does," Ig says, closing his eyes. He lifts his feet and props them on Gaz's back. We sit in silence for a bit, until…

"Hey, Fang!" Gaz says deviously. Uh oh.

"…Yes?"

"You still don't have a shirt, right?"

Jesus Christ. "Not this again," I say, irritated. "You aren't going to make me 'fess up again, are you? Wasn't once enough?"

"Once is _never_ enough," Gaz says eerily. He stands up, making Ig's feet fall to the floor with a loud thump. Advancing towards me, he says, in a perfect imitation of Peter Lorry, _"I'm coming for you. I will make you say it again and again!"_

I quickly pull off my jacket, wad it up and throw it at him. He ducks and the article of clothing goes flying back into the corner.

"I'll get it later," I say, lying back and folding my arms behind my head. I close my eyes, peacefully enjoying the silence.

"FANG HAS ARMPIT HAIR! ! !"

"Ex_cuse_ me?"

Crap. That's Max's voice. I sit up so fast that my vision goes black for a second, to see Gaz grinning evilly and the girls standing framed by the skeletal walls.

"GAZ~!" I lunge for him, but he dodges me. Ig's laughing so hard I'm worried he's going to throw up. Or I would be worried if he hadn't humiliated me so bad in front of Max.

"Fang has _what?" _Max says, sounding interested.

"Fang has _nothing!" _I say.

"Fang has armpit hair!" Gaz cheers. He scuttles away and hides behind Nudge, peeking out to see my enraged expression.

"Where's your shirt?" Angel asks.

"I burned it," I say shortly. "A while ago."

There's a short pause in which Max sets down her groceries and sighs. "Well, all armpit hair aside," she says, and I can see that she's struggling not to blush, "we have food. So everyone can chow down now, and um, Fang…" She avoids my eyes.

"Okay," I interrupt her, "let's eat, everyone."

I shoulder my way past the other girls and open the grocery bag, peering inside to see what food we have. On my way back to my spot, I kick Ig, whose shoulders are still shaking in silent laughter.

"Shut up," I hiss. "I bet you have even more armpit hair than me."

He stops laughing and looks at me seriously. "Of course I do."

Then he collapses again.

Needless to say, it's one of the most awkward meals I've ever partaken in. I really want to go get my jacket and burrow deep inside it, but that's like accepting defeat. _Damn you, Gaz!_ He did this on purpose!

"I'm tired," Angel says at some point. "I want to go to bed."

"Yeah, let's try to get some sleep," Max says, still avoiding my eyes. "It's been a long, relatively yucky day." She holds out her fist, and we all stack 'n' tap.

Then she and Gaz clear away construction debris while Ig and I begin to move heavy drywall to block the wind.

"Oh, my God, Gaz. You're right!" Nudge drawls from across the room. Without even looking, I know what she's talking about and resist the urge to clamp my elbows to my sides. A slow grin is spreading across Ig's face, and I lock my jaw and grind my teeth.

"Fang, when'd you get so _ripped?_" Gaz sniggers.

I drop the drywall abruptly. "What is this? Pick on Fang day?" I exclaim. I storm over to the corner where my jacket lay and huffily zip it up over my body, ignoring the laughter that follows me as I angrily drag the rest of the drywall into place, and then lay down.

In a couple more minutes we're all fast asleep.

* * *

"Fang! Fang! Look at this!"

Nudge's shriek propels me from awake to asleep with painful accuracy. Déjà vu, much…? I blink groggily and raise my head from where it was resting on my arms, taking in the scene.

Nudge, Gaz, and Angel have obviously been out and about. Ig and me are both bleary, just waking up; and Max is still completely asleep. I spare her a quick glance before turning my attention to Nudge, who has thrust something into my face.

"We went to get breakfast and we saw these papers - !"

"Wait. Hold up." I raise a hand and sit up. "You three went out by yourselves?"

"Uh…yeah?" Nudge says, wondering what I was getting at.

"Max is going to kill us!" Ig groans, letting it sink in.

Nudge's face falls. "Oh, no…"

"Okay. We were with you. Right, Ig?" I glance at him to see him looking relieved. "Right." I now turn my attention to the papers in Nudge's hands.

She has four different newspapers. Plastered to the front pages of each one are large, grainy pictures of us swooping merrily above the Castle Room under screaming headlines. "MIRACLE OR ILLUSION? SUPERHUMANS OR GENETIC FREAKS?" is just one of them.

I laugh drily and toss it aside. "Well, we're really up the creek now."

"Wha'…?"

I grab a muffin and take a bite as Max blinks awake. "We got breakfast," I say, shooting a glance at Nudge to see her grateful expression. "You were out for the count."

She blearily grabs a muffin for herself, taking a bite before pausing. Crumbs dribble down her chin. "What else?" she asks, sounding more alert.

I nod toward the newspapers.

"I figured you got 'em for the comics," she says, her voice interested as she pulls the pile closer and studies them. Her face drops; she looks like she's been punched in the stomach.

"Saw them when we were out," I say, draining my juice. "Guess we better lie low for a while."

"Yes, thank you, Tonto," Max says, irritation and strain running through her voice. Finally she sets the papers down, sighing, and picks up her muffin again.

"The upshot is, we might as well glow in the dark in terms of staying inconspicuous," she says, sound really frustrated. "So it looks like it's ix-nay on the Institute, at least for a while."

"Maybe we could wear disguises," Gaz suggests.

"Yeah, like glasses and funny noses," Angel adds.

Max smiles tiredly at them. "You think?" she says, and ruffles Angel's hair.

After that she stops pretending and finishes her breakfast in a sullen silence. We stayed up in the apartment until around noon, when we had to leave again to get some food. Unfortunately, we hadn't managed to get our grubby little paws on any funny glasses with noses, so we went as-is.

Venturing into a deli, we basically grabbed as much food as was physically possible to carry before walking back out into the sun. "So I'm thinking we should leave the city as soon as it gets dark," Max says to me.

I nod. "Where to?"

"Not too far," she says, looking off into the distance. "I'm still bent on getting to the bottom of the Institute, so to speak. Maybe upstate a bit? Or somewhere by the ocean?"

"_You!"_

Max recoils, Nudge bumping into her. I freeze and turn slowly towards the voice, which was coming from a young guy with a Mohawk, lots of facial piercings, and tattoos. "You guys are perfect!" he says excitedly, waving his arm.

Yep, definitely gay.

"Perfect for what?" I say with deadly calm, following his arm. He's waving toward a store with a sign out front reading, U 'Do: Tomorrow's Styles Today.

"We're having a makeover fest!" says the guy, still sounding over-the-top excited. "You guys can have total makeovers for _free_ – as long as your stylist gets to do whatever he or she wants."

"Like what?" Nudge asks, eyeing the store with interest.

"Makeup, hairstyle, everything!" vows the guy. "Except tattoos. We'd need a note from your parents."

"So that's out," Max mutters.

"I want to do it!" Nudge squeals. "It sounds so fun! Can we do it, Max? I want a makeover!"

"Uh…" Max stops when her gaze lands on something and an enlightened look comes over her face. "I'm up for it," she says briskly. My surprise must be evident on my face, because she catches my eye and says, "We'd love to be _made over._ Make us look completely different."

**O.o…FANG HAS ARMPIT HAIR! :D R&R **


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: /jaw drops to floor**

**200 reviews? My life can officially begin…/dies of happiness And a shout out to my 200****th**** reviewer… *le grumpy* m4tigers.**

**Disclaimer: Again…?**

"Owowowowowowowow…"

Ig's eyes are squeezed shut in pain, and his nails are carving half-moons into my palms. I roll my eyes at him, standing faithfully next to the stool he's perched on while the lady quickly and precisely squeezes the gun tight. There's a loud chink, and Ig draws in his breath tightly.

"You," I say flatly, "are the biggest baby to walk this earth. Ever."

"Ha…tatatatata." He lets out a large breath, then releases my hand and glares up at me. "You aren't the one getting a needle through your earlobe," he says, reaching up to finger the new thin gold hoop earring there. "It hurts more than you'd think."

"You were the one who wanted the needle through your earlobe, you didn't have to do it. Plus, it's not like you haven't gotten a million shots before."

Ig glares again. "Whatever." He slides agilely down from the stool and flips his hair out of his face, not that it matters because it's not like it's obstructing his vision. His new hair, now layered and spiky and tipped with black, just flops right into place.

"You know, they put gel in your hair to make it stay in place."

"Whatever," he says again.

I gesture in the direction of the lady, who's wringing her hands nervously by the chair. "Well, thank the lady for helping you put it in."

"That's what she said."

Since rolling my eyes isn't a large enough movement to show my exasperation, I just sigh and flip my own hair out of my eyes. It's a little shorter, and the stylist had bleached the tips and then colored them brown. I'd spent the first five minutes after having it done pulling it out as long as it would go, trying to see the effect and get it in my line of vision. Now it won't stay out of my eyes.

Despite his crude joke, Ig turns to the now mortified stylist. Pressing his palms together, he brings them to his chest and bows samurai-style. I almost expect him to say "ichi-nee-san" as he doubles over. "Thank you, kind madam," he says reverently, so I drag him away before he decides he needs to kiss her hand.

Gaz stomps over. "Max won't let me get 'bite me' shaved into the side of my head," he pouts.

"Quelle surprise," I mutter.

"We ready?" Ig huffs impatiently at Max. "Not that I don't adore shopping."

I feel my eyes land on Max again; truthfully, they can't stay off her. I don't think she's ever worn makeup in her entire life, and her hair is shorter now, streaked with pink and more flyaway, but out of her face. With her new clothes, I have to admit – she looks sexy. Like she's at least twenty, instead of fourteen.

"You look like you stuck your finger in a light socket," Gaz tells Ig admiringly.

"Really?" Ig asks, impressed, his faux glasses flashing. "Cool!"

We walk out of the store and into the evening. Nudge, who has had her hair straightened and now barely resembles her old self, skips ahead with Angel, whose hair has been pinned back and is lovingly carrying her bear, and Gaz, who is outfitted in camouflage from head to toe and has a haircut resembling Ig's. The three older ones linger behind, searching for a place to take off.

"There's a park up here." I point, and Max nods.

When we reach the small park, we each unfurl our wings and soar up into the stars, heading away from the glimmering city below us.

After we've been flying for about an hour and a half, I spy with my little eye a stretch of land with almost no lights. Since no lights = no flying-kid hating people, I nod at Max, and she nods back and we tilt into a dive. Minutes later, we land on a soft beach that's closed in by boulders and has a natural outcropping shelter out of reach from the high tide.

"Looks good," I say, reaching down to unbuckle my new boots. I'm not missing this chance to curl my toes in the sand. The feeling of the cool grains slipping between my phalanges is even better than what I had imagined.

"Home, sweet home," Max says drily, slinging her new backpack into the sand. She quickly yanks down the zipper and hands out the food that we have, and we eat speedily, feeling the occasional crunch between our molars when a grain of sand slips in there.

When we're all finished – which takes about twenty minutes – we all stack fists and then tap them with a familiar ease before curling up on the beach. It takes about one minute for me to fall drowsily into sleep.

* * *

"A crab!"

Angel scurries over to where Gaz is pointing excitedly into the sand, holding her little bear – god, Celeste, okay? – high enough off of the ground so that its tiny paws don't get dirty. They squat down and poke the poor armored creature with a handy stick until it gives up and skitters away in toothpick-thin legs.

"Cookie?" Ig offers, handing Max the bag that she acquired on her and Nudge's little jaunt into town that morning. Max grins and shoves her hand into the bag.

"Don't mind if I do." She pushes the cookie into her mouth and chews thoughtfully. Since yesterday, she's toned down her makeup a tad, so not half a cookie's crumbs stick to her glossy lips. But I still can't take my eyes off of her face.

"Hmm," she spews, sending crumbs airborne. "Clear vanilla notes, too-sweet chocolate chips, distinct flavor of brown sugar. A decent cookie, not spectacular. Still, a good-hearted cookie, not pretentious. What say you?" She directs the last part at me, and I roll my eyes at her expectation that I'll actually judge a cookie in this way. A cookie's a cookie. Plus, how can anything be too chocolaty? It's like an oxymoron.

"It's fine."

"I give them a seven out of ten," Max continues, undeterred. "Though still warm from the oven, they lack a certain je ne sais quoi. My mission will continue."

Ig laughs, rummaging in the bag for another snack while Nudge comes running up, her pants rolled up to her knees and bits of sand sticking to her bare legs. Truth be told, I hadn't had my own shoes on myself since last night, and had only not rolled up my pants because I was sure it would only provoke more hairy beast jokes.

"This place is so cool," she gushes. "I love the ocean! I want to be a scientist who studies the ocean when I grow up. I would go out to sea, and National Geographic will hire me."

With that, she turns excitedly and all but sprints back to the water. Ig ambles after her, a Fuji apple hanging from his mouth like a pig, his hands pushed contentedly into his pockets.

"They're happy here," I say quietly to Max, watching as Nudge pulls the apple away from Ig and tosses it into the waves. The older boy looks disgruntled, but not too angry since he was almost finished with it, anyway.

"What's not to like? Fresh air, peace and quiet, the ocean. Too bad we can't stay here."

I'm quiet for a moment, building up my courage. Then, "What if we were safe here?" I ask, glancing at her. "Like, we just knew that no one would come hassle us. Would you want to stay?"

Surprise flits across her features. "We have to find the Institute," she says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And if we find out anything, the others will want to track down their parents. And then, do we find Jeb and confront him? And who's the Director? Why did they do this to us? Why do they keep telling me I'm supposed to save the world?"

Her voice gets steadily louder as her speech goes on, and I hold up a hand, stopping her barrage. She looks abashes for a second.

"What if," I say quietly, "what if we just forgot about all of that?"

Max's jaw drops.

"What are you - ?" she begins, but then Gaz runs up with a crab, and Angel wants lunch, so I decide to drop it.

For now.

* * *

I go to town the next morning bright and early on Max's command and bring back a fresh paper with some spare change. I don't read it at all on the way back, figuring that the fact that our faces aren't in the front cover anymore is a good enough sign for me. I plop the paper at Max's feet, and the six pages it takes her to pause and skim and read an article are six more floods of relief in my system.

She purses her lips and tosses the paper aside. "Well, good for us. We've gone two days without causing a huge commotion in a public place and getting our faces splashed all over the news."

"We're going swimming!" Nudge cries happily, and the four of them splash into the water. I pop the lid off of a can of Planter's peanuts, and grab a handful, spidering the newspaper over the sand with my fingertips. I flip it open, shoving the peanuts into my mouth and shaking the sand from the paper off at the same time, I roll my eyes at the new front page article. Silly humans and their silly little human problems.

I shove another handful of peanuts into my mouth and start to become aware of the tension rolling off of Max sitting next to me like waves. I glance over at her, not having to work hard to rip my eyes from the annoying newspaper. Her eyes flick from the kids and Ig playing in the water to me, and opens her mouth to say something, but then stops as my gaze turns curious. Something fills her gaze that I've never seen before when she's looking at me.

Distrust.

The expression hits me like a physical slap in the face. My head jerks away from her and I almost fall over in the sand. Not that she notices; her gaze has returned to the rest of the flock in the water.

I half-lay, half-sit, frozen under the boiling sun, as an icy wave of fear crashes over me. Did I misread her expression? It had never happened to me before. Max's face is as easy for me to read as an open book, as cliché as that sounds.

"Your head hurt?" I ask, my voice dangerously wobbly. She sighs and shakes her head no, but I don't know anymore. Is she lying to me because she doesn't trust me anymore? And what did I do to earn that mistrust? I open my mouth to tell her that she can trust me, to ask her what's wrong, but suddenly she propels herself off of the ground at superspeed and is sprinting towards the water. I do a quick head count and feel my blood freeze solid in my veins.

_Angel's missing._

I am in the water so fast I don't even remember running there.

"Angel!" Max nearly screams, and grabs Gaz's shoulder. "Where did she go down?"

"Right here!" Gaz cries. "She dove that way! I saw her go under."

We spread out, and the search commences. I notice Max noticing the convenient ever-strengthening riptide, and a panicked expression settles over her face.

I lean over and sweep my hands below the surface, nose inches from the waves. In case any of you were wondering, the water is _not_ clear. In fact, we can only see a couple of inches down.

Cries of _"Angel!"_ follow me as I spread out. Methodically, we search, covering a large circle of water again and again, panic rising as minutes tick by and there's still no sign of her.

Suddenly Max surges forward. I look in the direction that she's moving, barely daring to hope. But there she is. Angel, her blond head poking from the waves, waving cheerfully. I see Max embrace her, hear Angel's voice carry over the water.

"Guess what? I can breathe underwater!"

Max hugs her tighter, then steers the slightly confused girl toward shore. The rest of us follow as Max and Angel collapse on the beach, and Gaz grips my hand, his body trembling.

"I was just swimming," Angel explains, "and I accidentally swallowed some water and started to choke. But I didn't want Gazzy to find me. We were playing hide-and-seek, underwater. So I just stayed under and then I realized that I could sort of swallow water and stay under and not choke."

"What do you mean, swallow water?" Max asks.

"I just swallow it and then go like this." Angel scrunches up her face and exhales violently through her nose. I frown.

"It comes out your nose?" I ask.

"No," says Angel. "I don't know where the water goes. But air comes out my nose."

Max looks at me. "She's extracting oxygen from the water."

"Can you show us?" I ask.

Angel gets up obligingly and trots to the water, Max following protectively behind. The former kneels down and takes a big mouthful of water, then seems to swallow it and exhale again through her nose. Shock crosses our faces; water is seeping from invisible pores on Angel's neck.

"Holy moly," Gaz breathes, releasing my hand to go closer. Nudge explains the scene to Ig, and he whistles, impressed.

"And I can do it and stay under and just keep swimming," Angel adds for a grand finale. She unfolds her wings to let them dry, already bored with the topic.

"I bet I can do it too!" Gaz predicts eagerly. "'Cos we're siblings."

He kneels down, gulps some water, and swallows fast. His face twists, and water streams from his nose. Gagging, he bends double and almost loses his lunch.

"You okay?" Max asks when he's finished. He nods, looking completely miserable.

"Iggy," Max says, a thought striking her, "touch Angel's neck and see if you can feel anything, those pores that water comes through."

Ig reaches for Angel, skimming his fingers over her neck. "I can't feel a thing," he says, which surprises all of us.

So we all have to try it. A couple of minutes later, we discover that no one but Angel can do it, and what it looks like when six birdkids are sick into the ocean. Let's say I'm not going to be swimming there for a while.

We all climb out and flop onto the beach, letting the sun dry our bodies and wings until night. And that's when we all fall asleep.

* * *

"Look who's come to the seashore."

My eyes snap open, and the first thing I see is a huge, hulking form, bent over Max. Its feral face is glowing, and my stomach drops sickeningly as I realize it's Ari.

All of us are instantly awake. Angel is in the air so fast it's almost like she was already there when she woke, and her bear is clutched protectively tight to her chest. Max gasps, and I look around: we're literally surrounded by Erasers. Hundreds and hundreds.

It's the stuff nightmares are made of.

Ari bends closer to Max, his boot pinned to her throat. "You're so pretty when you're sleeping – and your mouth is shut. But what a shame to cut your hair."

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," Max gasps, struggling against his boot.

He laughs and stokes her face with one claw. "I like 'em feisty."

Folks, I'd like to remind you that he's seven.

Blood vessels pop behind my eyes, and my blood boils. Before I can even stop to think, stop to realize that he hopelessly outmatches me, before I can remember how badly he beat me last time, I launch myself off of the ground, desperate to get him away from Max. My hands connect with his chest.

"_Get off her!"_

It's a roar; it pierces the night. Coldly furious, desperate for blood, I attack the wolf boy, my blood singing with intent to kill. The two of us scrabble for purchase, throwing wild punches and kicks. I can hear someone screaming, but I can't focus on it as I see Ari's lethal talon headed for my eye. I jerk my head to the side and he rakes my cheek, gouging out parallel lines of fire.

Wildly, I chop at Ari's collarbone, but it doesn't even split his skin. He yelps and pulls back his arm. His fist connects with the upside of my head, and my head snaps sideways. A loud tearing echoes through my ears and I bite my tongue hard, tasting blood as pain arcs through me. My whole body drops to the ground, crumpling in shock.

Next thing I know, fingers close around my skull, and it's lifted from the cold sand and brought down hard on a rock. Fireworks explode inside my head, and I struggle to stay conscious. The my head is lifted again and brought down on the same rock. I feel my skin split; blood gushes into my hair. The sharp pain makes me lose consciousness for about five seconds for about five seconds, but Max's tear-choked screams bring me back to it.

"Leave him _alone!_ Stop it! Please stop!"

I haven't heard her beg for anything since the School. Looks like she's doing it now. The agony in her voice makes me briefly forget my own, and my eyes open weakly. Seeing Ari above me, I grab a handful of sand, damp with my blood, and fling it into his eyes. Using his distraction to my advantage, I stagger to my feet, desperately trying to ignore the screaming in my skull, desperately trying to hold on to consciousness. I lift one leg, and with all the might I can muster, slam it into Ari's chest.

It's not enough. He recoils with a roar and cracks me across the chest, hard enough to snap ribs. I feel the liquid in my throat; blood sprays from between my lips, arcing away from me across the sand. My body crumples once more, limbs bent awkwardly.

The last thing I see is Max's face, dripping with tears. Her mouth is open in a scream, her eyes wide. My last thought is, _I'm sorry. I love you, Max._

Then the darkness pulls me under, leaving the image of her horrified, terrified, agonized eyes lingering in my brain.

* * *

"_And a clip here. Make sure his hair stays all the way back. I don't want him to be able to see a single strand of black."_

"_His wings?"_

"_Tie them. He can't be allowed to see a single feather."_

"_And what, exactly, is the point of all this?"_

"_We want to see how he reacts to pure white."_

_Stripped of his clothes, dressed in a paper-thin, paper-white suit that covered every inch of his body – from his bony toes, to his knobby knees, to jutting hipbones and ribs he could easily count, up to his neck, Fang shivered. It was surprisingly cold in the suit. His black wings were forcefully tied behind his back, making his shoulders throb, and his hair was yanked back from his forehead by rough hands. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see any black on his body._

_A door opened. Fang was pushed inside, toppling over awkward nine-year-old gangly limbs. He lay still on the floor, in case there was any sort of motion-detecting device in the room that would shoot lasers or something, but there didn't seem to be. He caught his breath from the rough manhandling. When he was ready, he sat and looked around._

_He was in a small room, eight feet by eight feet. There were no furnishings in the room whatsoever. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all pure white; there was not a speck of any other color. White lights shone from all angles, so there wasn't even a shadow on the floor. The door was sealed perfectly in its frame, not letting a single crack of any other color in._

Okay,_ Fang thought, _so this isn't going to be so bad. _He laid back, bored. His wings hurt, but at least this test didn't seem to be physically taxing._

_An hour passed before Fang's eyes started to get irritated. The pure white was kind of annoying._

_Another hour passed. Fang was starting to get mad._

_It took another hour for him to lose it._

_He twisted around. Couldn't see his wings at all, no matter how hard he strained. He felt for his hair; the clamps were like steel traps on his skull. He couldn't even see his eyelashes._

_There was no black._

_Fang's hand scrabbled for his wings, tremors wracking his body. It was to no avail. His breath was coming short and his arms ached, but he wouldn't give up. He had to see black. There had to be black._

_He tried to rip the paper from his skin, but found he couldn't._

_He shook his head madly, violently, trying to dislodge even a single strand of hair. But the whitecoats had covered everything. All he did was give himself a headache._

_Fang rolled onto his side, curling into a ball. Until now, all of the flock members besides himself had a weakness, that one test that, when threatened with it, would make them do whatever the whitecoats asked, would make them endure all others. He was the only one who hadn't had that._

_Now he knew that if the whitecoats ever threatened him with the White Room again, he'd do whatever they wanted. Anything to never have to go back here._

_Fang cried._

_He heaved himself onto his hands and knees and crawled to the door, tears streaming down his face. He pounded on the door, sobbing loudly, begging to be let out. To get away from the white._

_After another hour, they opened the door. Fang fell into the hall, exhausted, silent tears still pouring down his cheeks._

_There he lay, broken._

_When they unpinned his hair and untied his wings, he finally moved, shifting the feathery muscles around himself until he lost himself in the black. That was when he decided he'd never wear white again. Any white. Ever._

_Black was bliss. Black was home. Black mended what white had broken. It was that simple._

_He was done with white. His new life, his new world, was black._

* * *

"…We could carry him, you and me."

Ig's voice, paired with his butterfly fingers skimming over my skin, is what accompanies my return to the world of the living.

"Where to?" It's Max's voice, bitter. "It's not like we can check him into a hospital."

I feel my lips move. "No hospi'l," I mumble, stumbling over the 't'.

"_Fang!"_ Max cries, and I crack my eyes open to see her and Ig, bent over me, faces flooded with relief. "How bad?"

Her eyes are puffy, like she's been crying, and hard. I glance around, but don't see any Erasers. Either they had a kick-butt battle or something happened to make them all leave and not massacre us. Gaz, Nudge, and Angel hover nearby, and Nudge motions for Angel to go get water, which she does.

"Pre'y bad," I say, my words garbled. Feeling like I'm lying on a broken rib, I attempt to move, but stop when I explode with pain.

"Don't move!" Max says. My teeth crunch, so I disobey her and raise my head enough to spit in the sand. Something hard falls into my hand, and I groan.

"Tooth," I say blearily, letting my hand fall. Licking my lips provides me with the information that my mouth is covered in blood. "Feel like crap," I add, touching my head gingerly where Ari bashed me into the rock.

Max smiles, but her expression is laced with pain. "You look like a kitty cat," she says, indicating the stripes on my face. I look at her sourly, and all the amusement slides off of her face like melted butter.

"Fang," she says, and her voice breaks. A shining tear slips down her cheek, carving a path down to her chin. "Just live,okay? Live and be okay."

In the next second, she leans down and kisses me.

I'd like to say that I can see fireworks. That she tastes like the chocolate-chip cookies she suddenly loves so much. That it's the best first kiss anyone could ever hope for.

Truthfully, I'm too shocked to so much as close my eyes, and all I can taste is the metallic twang of my own blood. She moves away too fast, her cheeks turning tomato red.

"Ow," is all my stunned brain can think of to say. My hand rises to brush my split and swollen lip, and my eyes meet hers. She holds my gaze for a moment that stretches into a thousand years before looking up, mortified, to see Nudge and Gaz's surprised face.

A million thoughts run through my mind at once. Like, what the _**heck?**_ I replay the scene in my head. Yep, she'd definitely kissed me. No, I'm not delusional. It had happened, and right on the kisser, too, if you'll pardon the pun. Was it just because I'm injured? Would she have done the same thing to Ig?

I stop my thought processes as the image of Max and Ig kissing flashes through my brain. I'm pretty sure that left a few scars in the tissue up there. Even just levering myself into a sitting position makes me have to clench my jaw, making pain race up and down my mouth, but it's nothing compared to my (I think) cracked ribs and smashed-feeling skull. Sweat breaks out over my skin as I accept the water from Angel.

"Man," I say, and cough. This sends fire up my chest, and I wince and bite my tongue. "This feels pretty bad."

Nudge comes over to help me stand, and I lean heavily on her, my legs shaking almost too hard to support me. My back and face are drenched with sweat from the effort. I take a swig of water, swish it around in my mouth, and spit onto the sand. Blood stains the ground where I'd been lying, and anger darkens my face.

"I'm going to kill Ari," I say.

**FAX!**

**The scene in the White Room is something that I had planned out since the beginning of the story. I don't know how many of you remember all those times he says something about him wearing all black and then says something like, I'll tell you about that later. Well, that's why. :D**

**Review for FAX! YEAH!**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I would be really proud of how many reviews the last chapter got. However, I know it was only because SOMEONE (you know who you are) spammed up my inbox with reviews because she wanted to be the 222th reviewer. Since none of those reviews were legit, I don't even count them.**

**On another note, there's only gonna be about 2-3 chapters left of this story. Thank god. If you look at the date that this was published (March 7, 2011) you'll see that this has been going on for over a year. That's soooo long. Too long. You shouldn't be able to see someone's writing skills change that much in one story.**

**Ulquiorra: Not to toot your own horn or anything… **

**Anyway: Disclaimer time. I don't own Maximum Ride, or Ulquiorra who I have character-napped. But I'm working on that one. (LOL I wish!)**

Despite my ridiculous number of injuries, I somehow make it back to Manhattan with the rest of the flock without falling out of the sky. We had decided to head back to the city and disappear in the crowd, where the Erasers couldn't find us or anything.

"You macho thing, you," Max smirks when we land in nighttime Central Park and I immediately collapse on the ground, woozy, my head spinning. But I feel a little better. My ribcage doesn't hurt quite so badly anymore, and some of the minor scratches are beginning to close up and heal over.

"That's me," I say, but I open my night-colored eyes and train them on Max's. Truth be told, my lips are still tingling from earlier, and I flew most of the way here pressing my fingertips to them on and off. When my gaze cuts to hers, she turns a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"Are you really okay, Fang?" Nudge asks worriedly, hovering over me.

I sit up, rotating my shoulders and taking a deep breath. "I'm okay. Flying helped loosen me up some." But I can tell Max isn't fooled. I look like I fell off a cliff after being hit by a train. I probably still look like a kitty on my cheeks, and all my movements are stiff and wooden.

"Look," Max says, turning away from me, "let's find a place to hunker down, catch some Z's, and then take another shot at the Institute. We've got to figure it out – we can't stop now. Right, guys?"

"Yeah, right," Nudge agrees eagerly. "Let's do it, get it over with. I want to know about my mom. And other stuff. I want to know the whole story, good or bad."

"Me, too," says Gaz determinedly. "I want to find my parents so I can tell'm what total scuzzes they are. Like, 'Hi, Mom and Dad, you're such scum!'"

Ig helps me to my feet, and I lean heavily on him, letting him support us while I act as the eyes. Max leads us back into the subway and down on the tracks. Easing down from the ledge and onto the long metal lines, I narrow my eyes into the distance. Back to the underground city, eh?

It doesn't take us long to return to the cavern filled with the stench of loneliness. I sigh and rub my hands together, forcing my split lips into a smile. "Boy, does this look inviting," I say with mucho gusto.

Max grimaces at me as everyone scrambles up onto the ledge and then help me up after them. I lay flat on my back, concentrating on regulating my breathing as a sudden wave of nausea overcomes me. Letting my fist hang out to the side limply as the others stack around it, I take deep breaths through my nose, feeling like I'm going to hurl. Someone tucks my hand back over my chest, because I can't do it myself. I'm already asleep.

A defensive "Cool it, sucker!" slaps me awake a couple hours later. I stiffly sit up, my eyes open and narrowed, scanning the room. To my dismay, I discover that the nausea has still not passed, and the slight movement sends my stomach roiling, so I try to hold still and breathe shakily through my mouth.

"You're screwing with my Mac again," says the same voice that woke me, and my woozy eyes locate the forms of Max and the same hacker from earlier. Max has the poor dude's arm twisted violently behind his back. At his words, she seems to relax and release his arm.

"What happened to you?" he asks rudely, nodding at me as he nurses his arm.

"Cut myself shaving," I say, my voice unsteady.

The dude frowns and rubs his shoulder. "Why'd you come back here?" he demands at Max. "You're totally wrecking my hard drive."

"Let me see," Max says, and he withdraws his laptop and boots it up, flicking open the screen. The light that emits from the machine makes my head pound in time with my heartbeat, and I feel even sicker, so I take slow breaths and avert my gaze.

"It's weird." The hacker's voice sounds puzzled at whatever's on the screen – probably images from another of Max's brain explosions. "You guys don't have a computer with you?"

"No," I say, then add, "not even a cell phone" before he can ask.

"What about a Palm Pilot?" he asks.

Whatever that is. "Nope," Max says. "We're kind of more low-tech than that." Like, having Kleenex would be a huge step up for us.

"A memory chip?" he persists.

Max stills. I glance at her, trying to quell the queasiness that rises in my chest – half from the sickness, half from his mention of a memory chip.

"What kind of memory chip?" Max asks, struggling to sound casual.

"Anything," the dude says, "anything that would have data on it that would interfere with my hard drive."

"If we did have a chip, could you access it?" Max asks, choosing her words carefully.

"If I knew what it was. Maybe. What do you have?"

"It's small and square," Max says, not looking at him.

"Like this?" The guy holds his fingers about three inches apart, watching Max for confirmation.

"Smaller." She turns away from him.

His fingers are half an inch apart. "You have a memory chip this small?" His voice in incredulous, and he lets his hand drop. As Max nods, he leans forward, looking eager. "Let me see. Where is it?"

Max takes a deep breath. "In me. It's implanted in me. I saw it on an X-ray."

His eyes are horrified behind his goggles. With shaking fingers, he mechanically powers off his Mac and snaps it shut. "You have a memory chip that small implanted in you," he repeats dazedly.

Max nods wearily.

The dude slowly and shakily gets to his feet, like we're wild animals that will attack if he moves to quickly. "A chip like that is bad news," he says, his words tumbling over themselves. His feet step backwards, trembling, landing awkwardly on the cement. "It might be NSA. I won't mess with it. Look, you stay away from me! Next thing you know, they'll be after me." His hands go up. "I hate them! Hate them!"

He turns and runs away as fast as his stumpy little legs will carry him.

"See ya," Max mutters. "Wouldn't want to be ya."

I glare at her, my eyes adjusting. "I can't take you anywhere," I accuse irritably.

It doesn't take me a long time to fall asleep. It feels like a couple minutes – but is probably a couple hours – later, when I wake and see Max thrashing on the ground, murmuring to herself. Slowly she stills, and then opens her eyes and looks at me.

"Now what?" I ask.

"I know what we have to do," she says. "Wake everyone up."

* * *

"This way," Max commands as she leads the rest of us into the dark tunnel. I narrow my eyes at her back suspiciously, again leaning on Ig as we follow her. The other three trail behind, making loud exclamations at the echo qualities in the tunnel until Ig warns them to be quiet or else.

_What is she _thinking_? _I think, a little angrily. _Sometimes it's like she forgets that the rest of the world isn't inside her head with her. She didn't even bother to tell us what brought on this little epiphany._ I have my suspicions; the shining first one being that the Voice gave her some kind of command or instruction or crap.

_I don't trust that Voice,_ I think with a frown.

To make everything worse, my nausea has yet to pass. It feels like I have an elephant sitting on my chest; the pressure is awful and I can't release it. My head is throbbing, and my hands are shaking a little bit. The cool air in the cemented tunnel helps the sensation a little, so I continue to concentrate on my breathing.

"Did the Voice tell you about this?" Nudge asks loudly.

"Kind of," Max says cryptically.

"Great," Ig mutters in my ear, and I look at him with surprise on my face. Not that he can see it. But I'm glad that I'm not the only one who doesn't trust the Voice.

"Okay, now the tunnel splits and we take the one with no tracks," Max says confidently.

_Did the Voice tell you that too?_ I want to ask, but bite my tongue. Drawing in a shaky breath through my nose, I let it out and press forward with Ig.

Max has her eyes aimed to the floor, and she stops abruptly and kneels. We all halt behind her as she runs her hand impatiently over the floor before standing and puffing out a huge breath. "It should be here," she mutters, peering into the darkness.

What _should be here?_ I think angrily. Is she ever going to bother enlightening us on the nature of this mission? I hate being left in the dark, and Max doesn't seem to care to turn on the light bulbs.

Suddenly Max closes her eyes and walks forward. _What on Earth…?_ After a few steps, she looks down and grins.

"Go, Psychic Girl," Ig mutters resentfully, not liking being knowingly ignorant either.

"It's over here," Max calls, and we follow her to see just exactly what 'it' is.

'It' turns out to be a rusty metal grate. Ig and I help her force it from the ground, noticing the way the screws holding it down disintegrate into rusty ash. We set it aside, and I peer into the hole it leaves. A ladder leads down into a hole. Yellowish, once-fluorescent lights illuminate the tunnel, but I don't need them to tell me what's down there. The scent speaks volumes. Or _smells_ volumes.

Without even questioning it, Max lowers herself into the hole and begins to climb down the ladder into the sewer system of New York City.

The first skepticism I have is of the ladder itself. The image of the screws disintegrating into ash is still fresh in my mind. But Max makes it down there without problems, so the rest of us follow.

The stench hits my headache like physical blows, so I open my mouth and breathe through that instead. But the odor coats my tongue like a second skin, and I can almost taste the sweetly pungent aroma.

We're standing on a two-foot grimy ledge, leading out into the distance. Fourteen feet across is another ledge, similar to this one. The tunnel is lit by cobwebby, filthy yellow lights running horizontally down the ceiling. And between the two ledges is a river of wastewater.

"Bleah," Nudge complains. "This is so gross. When we get out of here I want someone to spray me with, like, disinfectant."

Angel stuffs Celeste under her shirt.

"Max?" Gaz asks, slipping his hand into mine. "Are those, um, rats?"

"Yes, those do appear to be either rats or mice on steroids," Max answers, her voice brisk and controlled, but her eyes tight.

"Jeez," Ig says disgustedly. "You'd think they'd want to live in a park or something."

We start to walk. In not very much time, we make it to an intersection of four ways, and Max immediately turns left with a familiarity that scares me a little. We walk on for a couple minutes before she stops again, just stops in the middle of the walkway for no reason at all.

She looks down, and I'm half expecting her to uncover another random manhole, about to put my foot down – _no, Max, I will not let you incinerate us in the magma beneath the Earth's core - _ when she gasps suddenly and all the color leaves her face.

I stumble forward on shaking legs, grab her half for support and half because I'm about to fall over. She glances up and down, looking like a deer in the headlights. I'm afraid she's finally lost it. Then she seems to come out of it and looks at me with a shaky smile.

"You must be so sick of looking at me with concern," she says, sounding embarrassed.

"It _is_ getting stale," I say, but there's no humor behind my words. "What happened? This time, I mean."

"I don't even want to explain," she says quietly. I release her arm like her skin has become a hot stove, but she doesn't seem to notice. Instead she uses her liberated arm to wipe sweat from her forehead. "You'd have me committed to a madhouse."

She steps around me. I wonder if my face shows the anger I feel inside. Obviously not, because it would be impossible to ignore. Ig clamps his hand on my shoulder, and we walk on.

After a bit Max stops again. This time I'm not sure if I'm expecting another mental breakdown, more ladders to climb around, or maybe even hidden pirate treasure that would make us rich beyond our wildest dreams. But no. There's a door set into the wall, and Max stares up at it with a pleased smile on her face.

"We're here, gang. We made it."

She reaches out and tries the rusty metal doorknob. Surprise, surprise. It's locked.

"Okay, guys," she says. "Can any of us open locks with our minds? Speak up now."

Of course no one can, so she steps aside and lets nature run its course. "Iggy, then." Proud to be recognized, the blind boy steps forward with a little smirk on his lips and pulls out his little lock-picking kit that Max gave him as a present and then confiscated barely two weeks later for _forever_ because he picked the lock on her closet.

"Okay," Ig mutters, and feels for the lock. Then he opens his kit, selects one of his thingamajiggers, then changes his mind and pulls out another whatchamacallit.

Angel shifts uneasily, glancing at the rats, which are steadily creeping closer. "They're going to bite us," she says, clutching Max's hand and patting the bump under her shirt that is Celeste. "I can read their minds too."

"No, sweetie," Max reassures her. "They're just afraid of us. They've never seen such huge, ugly. . .creatures before, and they want to check us out."

"We're ugly to them. Right," Angel says, giving Max a tiny smile but keeping her gaze on the rats."

Ig breaks the lock in three minutes. Three long minutes. Sweat trickles down my back, stinging its way through the various cuts and scrapes it finds there. I hold up my hand. Each knuckle is outlined with dirt; my fingernails are almost black. One of my nails is actually missing. I can't believe I didn't notice that before. Must've come off in the fight with Ari.

We all grip the door and pull it slowly forward. Peering inside, I notice with a sinking feeling that there's a staircase, going down of course.

"Yeah, this is what we need," I mutter. "A staircase going down to the Dark Place."

Ig blows out a breath, sending his multicolored hair flopping above his forehead. "You first, Max."

We all descend into the staircase. It's pitch black. For some reason the light from outside seems to just stop, as if there's a wall, because even though there's light in the tunnel behind us, it doesn't take very long for that light to completely disappear.

"Let's keep moving," Max calls as we tramp down endless flights of stairs.

"Do you know what you're doing?" I ask, keeping my irritation in check as best I can.

"We're approaching our destination," Max says, sounding like a cross between a GPS system and a lovestruck poet. "We're homing in on the answers we've dreamed about getting our whole lives."

"We're doing what your Voice has told us to do." Call me paranoid, but I can't help but envision that door swinging shut and the stairs ending, leaving us trapped in here forever.

"Yeah?" Max says, her voice wary. "The Voice has been okay so far, right?"

I don't feel like answering that one, so I don't.

The stairs seem to stretch on forever, but finally we reach the bottom with Max once again stating the obvious. "Here we are," she says. I think my irritation must be mostly because I can't see, I have a crappy headache, and I can barely breathe without feeling like I'm going to hurl. Whatever it is, I really wish she would just shut up and act like she's not the queen of the world for just one second.

_Maybe you're just feeling rejected because she kissed you and then apparently forgot about it._

My irritation grew. _Shut up. You don't know anything._

_You're just angry because you're in love with her and she played with you like that. _

_I'm not in love with her!_

_Plus you're in denial._

_Shut up! What do you know anyway? !_

_And now you're arguing with yourself._

"There's a wall in front of you." Ig's voice breaks my argument with myself (?) and I shake my head furiously.

"Door," Max says after a moment of feeling around in the dark. "Might need you, Iggy."

Apparently not, because she manages to get the door open. Dim light is on the other side, and I blink rapidly to adjust my eyes to it. The door opens silently into a small room, and cool air washes over us. I inhale the clean smell, my nausea almost (but not quite) going away.

We step into the doorframe, filthy shoes sinking into a thick carpet. There's another door on the other side of the room, and Max opens it.

It seems too easy. _Did we just walk right into a trap…?_

That's when my train of thought ends at what I see. We're in a lab, a lab identical to the School.

"We're in the Institute," Max breathes.

"Um, is that a good thing?" Gaz asks.

"Holy fu – shit," I say, changing from one bad word to a slightly better one. Max doesn't reprimand me though, just stands there with her jaw hanging open for about five half-seconds.

You thought I forgot, didn't you. But guess what? I have the memory of an elephant. A Fangiphant, that's what I am.

"No kidding," she finally agrees.

In the lab, there are tall banks of sleeping computers – it's not yet dawn, dry erase boards with diagrams drawn hastily, as if the drawer was in a rush to get them down. All the machines are humming quietly, screens dark. All except one, and we make our way to it, hearts pounding.

"Okay, guys," Max says quietly, sliding onto the stool in front of the computer. "Fan out, stay on guard, watch my back. I mean it! I'm going to try to hack in." She grabs the mouse and clicks.

_Password?_

Max cracks her knuckles loudly and I wince. She then puts her fingers to the keys and begins to type.

I can't see what she's writing, since the letters on screen appear as little black dots. But after about a zillion times of the letters zooming backwards after fierce interactions with the backspace key, all of our nerves are frayed.

"This is pointless," Max groans, burying her hands in her hair.

"What's wrong, Max?" Nudge asks, leaning in closer.

"Who am I kidding?" Max exclaims. "There's no way for me to crack the password. We've come all this way for _nothing._ I'm such a loser! I can't stand it!"

Nudge slides in next to Max, an intense frown on her face. She puts her finger on the monitor, reading the words on the screen, her lips moving silently.

"Nudge?" Max asks.

Nudge closes her eyes. Her hand splays out over the screen.

"Hello? What are you doing?" Max demands, but Nudge doesn't answer. At least not in the way Max expects her to.

"Um, try big _X_, little _j_, little _n,_ big _P_, the number seven, big _O_, big _H_, little _j_, and the number four," Nudge says in a whisper so quiet I can barely hear her.

Max stares at Nudge, then swivels and glances at me. I give her a tiny nod. It can't hurt to try.

Max quickly types in the letters Nudge said, then hits _Enter_. The computer whirs, and the screen comes to life, icons scrolling down the screen.

My jaw drops.

Nudge opens her eyes slowly and smiles. "Did it work?" she asks brightly.

"Yeah, it worked," Max says, sounding stunned. "Where'd you get it?"

"The computer. Like, when I touched it." She reaches out and touches it again, looking pleased with herself. "I can see the person who works here. It's a woman, with frizzy red hair. She drinks way too much coffee. She typed in the password, and I can feel it."

"Wow!" says Max. "Touch something else."

Nudge goes over to the next chair and lays her hand on it, closing her eyes again. "A guy sits here. A baldie," she says, smiling. "He bites his nails. He went home early yesterday." She opens her eyes and grins delightedly at Max. "I have a new skill! I can do something new!" she says. "This is so cool!"

"Good for you, Nudge," says Max, sounding proud as she turns back to the computer. "You saved our butts here."

Silence falls over the room, broken only by Max's feverish clicking. No one wants to distract her. Suddenly her breath hitches, and with a final click, a printer begins to whirr and spew out papers.

"What are you doing?" I ask, coming over.

"I think maybe I found something," Max says, her voice high-pitched with excitement. "I'm going to print it, and then we should get the heck out of here. Start getting the others together."

She bends down and starts scooping the papers into her pockets, folding and cramming them all in until the printer stops.

"Come on!" she says urgently. "Let's split! Let's go!"

"Uh, just a second, Max," says Gaz, his voice sounding really weird. I looked over with alarm. He was standing by a fabric-covered wall, and of course his curiosity had prompted him to pull aside the curtain. We all creep over and look inside.

Max covers her mouth. Angel lets out a small scream, and I cover her mouth with my hand, staring in horror into the room. All my muscles go slack, and I stare in limp shock.

Behind the curtain is a glass wall. No biggie.

Behind the wall is a lab just like this one, with computers and stations. No biggie.

The biggie was that in this lab room there were cages.

Dozens of cages.

And each one had a child-sized form inside.

Mutants.

Just like us.

**So I put up a poll on my profile, and I'd love it if you all took a sec to go vote. It's about whether Holly should be in the next chapter, and it's kind of important. So…please review and vote on the critical-ness of this story!**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Since only 1 person voted in the poll, I'm going to assume the rest of you don't care and do whatever I want. Yay! **

**On the upside, there's only this chapter and 1 more until the finish. XD**

**-PERSONAL NOTE! My favorite band is releasing a single on the 22nd! That is in 2 days people! So excuse me if I seem overly happy! Plus my romantic life I believe is about to take a happy-making turn! So I am happy today!**

**Ulquiorra: /mutters Too happy.**

**Me: Shut up, no one likes you.**

**/is trampled by angry fangirls**

* * *

We are all speechless.

Somehow Max goes over and presses the keypad, letting the doors swing open. I jolt out of my horrified trance and step forward on shaking legs, into the room with the cages and the mutants and the nightmares.

Just looking at this room brings back the most awful memories. Horrible days, nights, years on end of running, of jumping, of swimming. Of slowly wasting away in a small, cramped crate, your life an endless stretch of pain and misery. That was the School, that was what it represented.

"This is pathetic," I murmur, glancing into the crate of a sleeping kitty with human eyes and fingers. Max glances over, holds her breath, and looks away and walks on. But I stay in front of the cat, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

I don't know the last time I cried. Before we left the School. Actually, I don't think I've ever really cried before. So the sensation of the sting in my eyes is unfamiliar. I duck my head and curse under my breath, swiping angrily at my eyes, trying to get my emotions under control.

When I raise my head, I see Max standing next to Nudge, trying to catch my eye. I go over to her and look into the crate they're looking into. Inside is a baby bird kid, with tiny brown wings and a tuft of hair.

"You know, we can't save them _all,"_ I say tenderly.

"I'm supposed to save the whole world, remember?" Max whispers back. "Well, I'm gonna start with these guys." She turns and whispers, "Start popping latches!" to Ig, who turns and passes it on.

I keel down and carefully pick up the baby from the crate, holding it securely against my chest. With one hand, I pop as many latches as possible. Experiments are pressing against the cages, making all kinds of excited, scared, confused noises.

Finally all the mutants are freed from the crates and standing in a giant huddle, shaking with all kinds of emotions. Max frees one last kid and grabs it by the wrist, shouting, "Okay, everybody! Let's blow this joint!"

"This way!" Nudge cries, attempting to herd the kids from the lab. "Don't be afraid!"

"I hear voices," Ig mutters. "Be _very_ afraid."

"Let's go!" Max shouts, ignoring their little dialogue. "Nudge! Fang! Angel! Out, out, out!"

I wonder what in the world we're doing. We can barely feed and clothe ourselves, but now to be in charge of fifty people…? What is Max thinking? I don't have time to stop and puzzle it out.

Nudge, Angel and I run to the second door as quickly as we can. I press the tiny baby's head to my chest as I begin to sprint up the stairs, supporting it with my arms, curling protectively around it. For some reason my throat is still aching, and my eyes are starting to burn again. I'm tired of running away all the time. I just want to sit down and play with some babies and relax. If I have a small child in my arms, I don't want to be running up a million stairs for my life with it. I want to be safe and free with it.

I push open the last door, and we all spill back into the sewer. I pause for a moment to make sure we have everyone, and I see Max talking to somebody I can't see.

"Sewer system, under a big city," she says to the person, explaining where we are. "On our way to fresh air and sunlight."

"But not just yet. First we need to chat, Maximum. Just you and I."

Ari's voice fills my ears and I begin to shake with anger, pressing the baby against my chest to try and control my violent and murderous tendencies.

"Back again?" Max sneers. "What are _you_ doing here? I thought Dad was keeping you on a short leash." She makes 'run!' motions with her hands behind her back. Quickly, Ig and I begin to herd the mutants away, down the sewer tunnel and towards the ladder. The other three stay with Max.

As we walk, I look only ahead, climbing the ladder mechanically and helping all the mutants through. Finally the last girl comes, and I finally see who Max was talking to back there.

She's a girl, about my age, with long, tangled blond hair and tired blue eyes. From her back sprouts two massive white wings, speckled with black spots like pepper. Her eyes lock onto mine, a confused glance passing through them. For some reason, déjà vu hits me like a jackhammer, and I can only stare for a moment with my mouth open.

Abruptly, I turn and start walking, taking the lead again. She jogs to catch up with me.

"Hey," she greets me, like we're old friends.

"Hi."

I don't elaborate, waiting for her to tell me where we've met before. But she doesn't, so I think that maybe I'm just imagining things.

"Iggy said to ask you where we're going," she says, jerking her thumb backwards at the end of the line, where Ig is bringing up the caboose.

I glance sharply at her, then look away again when the déjà vu hits me again. I shake my head sharply and focus on my footsteps.

"Uh, he said he couldn't because he was blind…" Her voice trailed off, and she realized how dumb she was being. I think.

"And…you believed this because…?" I pushed for details, fully expecting her to say, _How can a blind person describe a city?_

"A blind person's experience in a city is different than a seeing person's. Since we're both seeing people, I thought you might be able to explain it better," she says sharply, and I glance at her, impressed. _You pass._

"Just wait," I say, and push open the last door. Bright sunlight hits me in the face, and I look at her to see her shielding her blue eyes from the light with her hands, blinking hard.

"Turn off the _sun,"_ she complains.

After about five half-seconds, she – and all the rest of the mutants – are able to open their eyes and look around them in wonder. But we don't have time for this. If we get them safely away from here, they'll have plenty of time to admire the scenery.

"Follow me," I murmur, slipping through an alley and walking down the closely walled in pathway. Gravel crunches under my feet, and I look down and notice that all the experiments have no shoes. Despite this, the girl next to me seems to be walking perfectly normally. I wondered what kinds of things she'd endured to get calluses like that.

We emerge into an empty lot, and I let all the mutants stream from the alley into it. Ig and I face the crowd, which has grouped all together to face us.

"We need to discuss some stuff," I announce, and all the heads turn towards me.

"Like what?" asks a cross female, who seems to be part cat with ears and a tail.

"Like if you're going to stay with us," I say, my voice hard. I feel a little bad about it, and actually I really do want to keep all of them, but the fact was, was that that just wasn't possible. And any weakness was going to get someone killed.

"Well, I kind of assumed…" says the blond girl, her voice faltering.

"Assumed what?" Ig asks harshly, his sightless eyes hardening. "That we'd be able to feed and clothe all forty-seven of you?"

"How do you -?"

I wave my hand, discarding a pointless question. "Let's vote."

The words hit the familiar-looking girl like a slap in the face, and she stumbles backwards, shaking her head in disbelief as she stares at me with wide eyes. I cut my eyes to her, trying to let her see what I'm feeling in my eyes, but she isn't ready look.

"Who wants them to go?" I ask, but before I can make up my mind, the girl's spine straightens and her features harden.

"Fine. Be that way," she says angrily.

Without her even needing to say anything, the cat-girl and a boy with so many lizardlike mutations I can't even count on one hand appear at her sides, looking equally angry.

"See ya, losers," she says, mock-saluting me.

Then that girl, who I had definitely seen somewhere before, turns and runs away from me, her two friends following behind.

Ig sighs and shakes his head. "Well, that's that," he muses.

I can't rip my eyes away from the spot where she disappeared, a feeling of regret welling up in me. Now I'd never know where she came from, and I'd always have to wonder why she seemed so familiar.

"What about the rest of them?" Ig asks, gesturing to the rest of the mutants. I turn and watch them. They seem to have taken a leaf out of thee blond girl's book, and are slowly disbanding and walking off in different directions.

If I knew the whitecoats, half of them would be back in the cages by nightfall, but that was okay. I hoped they got to at least enjoy the couple of hours that they'd get to be free from the Institute.

One of the mutants came up to me and wordlessly held out her arms. I handed the baby in my arms away with only a slight pang, but I quickly smothered it.

Soon the lot was devoid of any people besides me and Ig. We stand in awkward silence for a moment before I see Max limping out of the tunnel, supported by Nudge. Gaz and Angel follow worriedly.

"Where are the other kids? The mutants?" Max rasps.

"The girl with wings took them." I don't know what makes me lie, but I do. I shrug nonchalantly. "She didn't want to stay with us. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Sound like anyone you know?"

Max's facial expression doesn't even change. She looks haunted. I frown worriedly. _I wonder what happened down there…_

"Just walk. Keep walking," Max murmurs to herself, and begins to limp forward. "Walk the walk."

Slightly concerned, I pick up the pace.

We make it about two minutes before Max stops abruptly. I get ready to roll my eyes, expecting Max to begin reading palms or announce that she's actually a prophet, but she just eyes Angel carefully.

"Angel? What's that?"

I look at Angel to see that she's clutching Celeste to her chest – nothing new there – as well as a weird, black, furry, squirming thing…

"It's my dog," she says, her jaw set as she dares Max to argue.

"Your what?" I ask, gathering to her.

"Let's move," Max says, "but this discussion isn't over, Angel."

We manage to find an overgrown area down at the tip of Battery Park, and huddle down behind yew trees and old rhododendrons. "Okay," Max says, sitting up straighter. "Angel, explain the dog."

"He's my dog," she insists. "From the Institute."

Crap. It probably has a tracker chip in it – although it's not like we don't already have one of those. I send Max a look that clearly says, If you let her keep this dog I will kill you.

"Angel, we can_not_ have a dog with us," Max says sternly.

The dog wiggles out of her arms and sits next to her. I have to admit, it looks really friendly. Cuddly, cute, ect. ect. It even seems to have a little doggy smile as it wags its stumpy little tail and sniffs eagerly at the air.

"And besides, you already have Celeste," Max points out as Gaz edges closer to the dog, curiosity piqued.

"I love Celeste," Angel states loyally. "But I couldn't leave Total behind."

"Total?" Ig asks.

"That's what his card said," Angel informs us.

"Totally a mutant dog who will probably turn on us and kill us in our sleep," I mutter.

The dog cocks his head at me, his doggy grin fading momentarily before he shakes off the insult and wags his tail happily.

I glare at Max.

"Angel," Max cajoles, "We can't always feed _ourselves_. We're on the _run_. It's dangerous out here. It's all we can do to deal with us."

Angel stares at her sneakers, her jaw set. "He's the most wonderful dog in the whole wide world," she says stubbornly. "So _there."_

Max looks at me helplessly, and I try to make my face stern. "Angel," I say, but then she looks up at me, her eyes wide and innocent, sparkling with the hope that I can make everything right, and as a side note, will I please, pretty-please-with-a-cherry-on-top-plus-those-magical-rainbow-sprinkles, let her keep just one tiny little dog…?

"The first time you don't take care of him, boom, he's _out,"_ I say, trying to hold onto the tiny bit of dignity I have left. "Understood?"

Angel's face lights up, and she throws herself at me, almost knocking me over. Her arms squeeze my shoulders, and I just sit there, stunned, for a moment before I awkwardly hug her back. Max gapes at me, and I self-consciously let her go.

"She made Bambi eyes at me," I murmur as an excuse. "You know I can't resist it when she does Bambi eyes…"

"_Total!"_ Angel cries happily. "You can stay!"

She excitedly hugs the wriggling bundle of fur. Total yips happily, then jumps excitedly into the air.

Our collective jaws drop. Total has jumped nearly sixteen feet into the air. He lands, nearly bottoms out, and then jumps back into Angel's arms and excitedly licks her face.

"Oh," says Angel, stunned.

"Yeah, _oh,"_ Max agrees fervently.

* * *

**So who else here forgot about that little detail about Total? Yeah, me too. Just another plot hole that JP left gaping in those books…**

**If you cried when Fang cried (I know I did, and I was the one writing it…), let me know! I KNOW ALL OF YOU WANT TO PRESS THAT BIG SHINY B-E-A-UTIFUL NEW REVIEW BUTTON! Ain't it just gorgeous!**

**P.S. Chapter 30? WTF is up with that? !**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: SUMMER!**

**No really. It's summer! Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride.**

**LAST CHAPTER BITCHES!**

We make a campfire that night near the water in Staten Island, NY. All of us are licking wounds, but at the same time there's an excited atmosphere in the air that no one can deny.

"Okay, we're all safe, all together." Max takes a deep breath, and I'm sure she's going to go all soapbox on us. But you know what? It doesn't irritate me. Because that's who she is, and it's not going to change. Just one thing that makes Max Max, and I should do well not to forget it.

"We found the Institute and _maybe_ we got exactly what we went there for," she continues. "Guys, I found names, addresses, even pictures of people who might be our parents."

Shock registers on everyone's faces, but it is quickly replaced by excitement.

"What are you waiting on?" Ig asks eagerly. "The envelope, _please_. Open it, already. Then somebody tell me what it says."

Max's hands are shaking as she pulls the papers out of the envelope. We all gather around her and help press the papers flat - the papers that could contain the answers to basically every question we could have about our pasts.

"Max, what did Jeb mean - you killed your own brother? He didn't mean that Ari was your brother, did he? You guys weren't - I mean, _triple yuk -"_

Typical of Nudge to be off in her own world at a critical time like this.

"I don't know, Nudge," Max says, holding up a hand and struggling to control her voice. "Let's read these pages. When someone gets something interesting, yell." She passes out the stacks, and Gaz clutches his eagerly.

"Who's your daddy? Who's your mama?" he crows. It should be known that this statement absolutely does not require an explanation.

Angel starts reading slowly. "This doesn't make sense to me," she says after about ten seconds.

I turn my head to my own papers and begin to shuffle through them, ignoring Gaz's excited cry. Tracing my fingers down the page, I let them rest on two snapshots of a man and a woman and then examine the words next to them.

My heart stops beating for a moment, and I bring the papers closer to my face. _Can it be...?_ The woman has black hair, piercings, thick makeup - but under it all I can see the shape of the jaw, nose, high cheekbones. The man is blond, and looks a few years older. He has stubble and almond shaped eyes like me, though his are blue and mine aren't.

"I've got an address too, and some names," I say, looking at the paper and seeing the names as I say it. Her name - Natalya Cass, and he's Jefferson Page. These are my parents...oh god. "And _my_ name. And, oh man, there are pictures..."

"Let us see! Let us see!"

Everyone gathers around. All I can see is those two little pictures, trembling as my hand shakes around them.

"He looks just like you, Fang!" Nudge exclaims, pointing at Jefferson - my dad. "And so does she. They've got to be your mom and dad! No doubt."

Everyone suddenly starts crying for some reason, which is weird because they're my parents and no one else's.

"Maybe, maybe not," I mutter as an answer, studying their faces some more. Natalya Cass - my mother - looks a lot like me, from the structure of the face to eyes and hair. Although Jefferson Page - my father - is blond and blue eyed, his eyes are shaped the same as mine. For some reason I feel like I've seen his face before.

Weird...

"Here they are!" Gaz shouts suddenly, breaking my muse. "My mom and dad! One sixty-seven Cortlandt Lane in Alexandria, Virginia! Angel, look! This is them. It's totally amazing. It's a miracle. They look like me! And you too, Angel!"

There's a quick pause, and then the sounds of Angel sobbing. I want to look up, but I can't tear my eyes away from my mother's face.

_Your mom thought you died, like Nudge. She was a teenager. They don't know who your dad was. But your mom thought you died. _

That's right. According to Angel, they didn't know who my father was. So maybe they'd found him. But she had only found that out a couple of days ago; was it possible that they'd found him since then? Or was it more realistic to say that maybe Angel's information wasn't completely accurate?

I let my eyes slide to the words printed on the pages.

"There's lots of numbers and nonsense printed all over these pages too," I report to Max.

She glances down at her own pages and frowns. "Why scramble just some of the information? It doesn't make sense."

"Who cares?" Gaz cries happily. "I found my mom and dad! YAA-HOO! I take back being mad at them!" He glances back at his papers, shuffling through. "Iggy! Iggy! Your mom!" he announces, and Ig stiffens. "Oh, aww - says your dad is deceased. Sorry about your dad. But your mom looks neat." He begins to describe her.

_Wait a second. _

Hadn't Angel said that his mother was the one who was dead?

Yes, she had. I remembered it clearly.

So who was wrong? This information or what the whitecoats were thinking and thusly passed on to Angel?

It didn't make sense!

"So why scramble this other information?" Max asks.

"Maybe it's information that the whitecoats never wanted anyone to find out." My voice is hollow.

"Like - funding," Max thinks aloud. "Or hospitals who gave them babies. Other messed-up scientists who help them. Like the keys to the whole Evil Empire."

"Holy Joe," Ig says, sitting up excitedly. "If we had that stuff, we could blow them wide open! We could send it to a newspaper. That fat guy could make a movie - like _Bowling for Colombine_ or something."

Whatever that meant.

"I don't care about that stuff," Nudge says impatiently. "I just want to find my mom and dad once and for all. Wait, wait! This is me!" She spreads the papers out and glances around at all of them. "Know what? All these addresses are in Virginia and Maryland and Washington, DC. That's all kind of close together, isn't it? Plus, DC is where the government is, right?"

Ig is basically quivering with excitement. "This is the coolest thing ever! First we go meet our parents. Joyful reunion, hugs, kisses. Then we go destroy the School, the Institute, all those sons of b - I mean, all those jerks who messed us up. That would be so great. Like, we could wipe out the Erasers, all of 'em, at once. Way cool!"

Gaz sobers up. "So what are we gonna do? For real?"

"I want to do whatever Max does," Angel declares. "So do Celeste and Total."

Total wriggles, hearing his name, and proceeds to lick everything in the near vicinity. Angel smiled and hugged him.

"We go to DC," Max says finally. "And take baths. And start tracking your parents down. We have all their addresses, right?"

"Whoo-hoo!" Gaz shouts, slapping Ig in the hand. Everyone starts smiling, and in no time we're all laughing again.

**!**

There's really nothing better than flying in the morning at about fifteen thousand feet, say around six AM. Wind blowing through your hair, making your eyes water, ruffling feathers. Below us, we can see New Jersey, winding away as we fly to Washington, DC.

I glance over at Max, and she meets my gaze. Her face is graced with a content smile, and she holds her wings still for a moment, coasting. I can almost feel the anticipation rolling off of her.

Max. I have to do some thinking about her.

Me. I have to do some thinking about me too.

I also have to do some thinking about the information that we had found, and how it didn't match up with Angel's. Who's the liar? The Institute, or Angel? I glance back at her, soaring with Nudge and clutching her bear to her chest. She looks so happy and alive. Maybe it's the School who's the liars, and not Angel.

But you know what? I'm not going to think about lies and liars right now. Because right now I'm flying in the warm air above the ground with my best, best friends. And that's all a bird kid could ask for.

**So as you all know, towards the end of this I kind of stopped being into it. But, I made it through and I came out the other end glad for it.**

**I've been asked a couple times about whether I'll be doing School's Out – Forever. And I don't know. I don't think so right now. But maybe sometime in the future, just not soon.**

**I'd like to take a moment to thank every single reviewer. Without you all here with me I would never, **_**ever **_**have made it through this story and I am so glad you all were here to support me.**

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**Wow. I think that's the most reviewers I've ever had for a story, but most of them only reviewed one of two chapters or I'd have like 6,000 reviews on this story. XD**

**I love every single one of you and thank you soooo much everyone. If I missed anyone, just send me a PM and you can be as insulted as you'd like (anonymous reviewers were not mentioned, although I love you too!). Thanks again everyone and I'll see you soon!**

**P.S. If you're still reading all this and you like the anime/manga **_**Bleach**_**, go check out my page. I have a bunch of those too~!**

**Alright, then! See ya!**

**-TheCatWithTheHat**


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